Because of You
by Savvy Sammy-13
Summary: Hotch has a chance encounter with a young woman—just a brief moment of interaction in a parking lot. But after their brief meeting, he learns that she has been abducted by a local serial killer and blames himself for not being there just a few minutes later. Can Hotch connect the dots, fight his own demons, and save her from her captor before it is too late? Hotch/OC
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Okay, this will be my first Criminal Minds/Hotch one. I've wanted to try one since I started watching it, so here goes. Pretty please Review so I'll know if anyone is interested._

Hotch pulled his cell phone from his suit jacket pocket. He hadn't checked it since it had died on him. Luckily it had regained a little charge on the way to Jack's school. He looked both ways and then crossed the street in front of the school, headed toward the parking lot that sat directly across the street from it.

He'd been a little late to pick up Jack, but it hadn't occurred to him that when the school couldn't reach him, they would call Jessica, obviously the next person on Jack's contact list now. The elementary school office apologized for the confusion, although it was not their fault. Hotch silently cursed the fact that he'd let his phone die. He was just angry with himself. What if something had happened or what if Jack had gotten hurt and the school couldn't get in touch with him? This particular time hadn't been the first that he'd gotten hung up working, but it was the first he had been unavailable since…well since what happened to Haley. On a few occasions he had called Jessica himself and asked her to get Jack. Now, he assumed that she would probably be worried that she had heard from the office and not he himself.

He pressed his green message icon, and then he pressed his and Jessica's short message thread.

_Jessica: You okay, Aaron? I got Jack and brought him back to my house. You could have told me to pick him up. I wouldn't have minded. Are you working on a case? Jack can stay with me if you need him to?_

"Ooooh, Excuse me!" the shrill voice of a woman exploded in the afternoon air at the exact moment he felt his body collide with hers.

"Excuse me-" he began as he wretched his eyes away from his phone and looked up at the young blonde woman. "I'm sor-"

"I thought that you were going that way…so I was gonna go that way," she interrupted him, pointing and moving to the side so she could walk around him. She was talking quickly. "Leave it to me to run into someone in the middle of a parking lot." The small woman was weighted down. Her arms were full, but she freed one of her hands so that she could catch a strand of her shoulder length blonde hair that fell in her eyes. A black purse hung from her right shoulder and a larger pink bag hung from her left. It was full of papers. She held a colorful, painted canvas under her left arm, but Hotch did not waste time studying it to see what was on it. She was dressed nice, professional even in a pair of dark skinny jeans.

"No, it's okay," he forced an awkward smile, trying to soften the hardened expression that he knew that he wore from the busy work day and confusion with the office. She smiled back at him. When she smiled, dimples formed on her cheeks and the tension under her blue eyes lightened a little.

"Good," She reached over to straighten her turquoise blazer atop her plain white shirt and shifted the canvas in her arm as she took a few side steps away from him. She looked slightly flustered, and he wondered why she was in such a hurry.

Hotch nodded to her and then glanced back to his phone as he began walking to his car again. After taking a few steps, he turned back and saw the petite woman stop beside a big gray garbage can. He realized then that she was not as tall as she'd seemed up close. She wore a pair of white heels that made her look a little taller than she actually was. He guessed that she was probably really only about 5'5. She reached in her bag, crumpled a paper, and then tossed it before reaching into her big bag again. He turned back and looked down at his cell phone again, content with seeing that the woman's final destination was just the garbage can.

Hotch glanced up, eyed his car parked a few feet away and then began typing out a new message for Jessica as he walked.

_Sorry. Got hung up working on a case. I would have called but my phone died. Headed to pick Jack up now Thanks._

He pressed send and then opened his car door. His back ached from leaning over his desk at work. He had spent the afternoon looking at new cases with JJ, but he still wasn't sure which one that the team would be working on first thing Monday morning. The cases were still running through his head. A few bodies had turned up on the Mississippi Gulf Coast with similar circumstances surrounding their deaths, there was an arsonist in California, and disappearances of children in New Hampshire—literally all on different sides of the country, and that meant he would probably end up having to leave Jack with Jessica for a day or so.

But Hotch didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about all of the people who needed help or what the victim's families were probably all going through. He didn't want to think about all of the pain. He felt enough of it himself. All he really wanted to think about was the weekend that he planned on spending with Jack—just the two of them.

Hotch reached up and loosened his tie before plugging his phone back onto its car charger and then starting the car. He pulled out of his parking place and started toward the parking lot exit. The lot wasn't very big. It only had a few rows. Since it was directly in front of the elementary school, it was designated mainly for the elementary teachers and the occasionally parents who needed to visit the school's main office.

He noticed the blonde woman again. She was walking ahead of him down the lot. She was headed toward the end of the parking lot that his car had been parked, but she was looking down.

He slowed down, watching the woman as she continued walking toward the path of his car. She passed between a minivan and a small car, continuing on her way. She was busy, desperately busy digging through the large pink bag on her left shoulder instead of watching where she was going. She paused for a moment so Hotch sped up a little, but then she stepped out in front of him, and Hotch slammed his foot down on his brakes.

"Damnitt," he cursed and his hands tightened on the wheel.

His tires squealed and the woman looked up immediately. She threw her hands up in surprise and dropped the canvas that had been tucked under her arm and the papers that she had just pulled from her bag.

Hotch put the car in park and threw open his door. Their eyes met for a brief moment and she dove to the ground to retrieve the materials that she had dropped. The wind caught a few papers and sent them skittering underneath his car.

"I'm so sorry," she called out immediately.

"Are you okay?" Hotch rounded the front of his car. His heart pounded in his chest. Had he not been paying attention, or if he had been on his phone, he could've hit her.

"Yeah I'm fine," She said quickly, not glancing up as she frantically straightened the stack of papers in her hands.

Hotch bent down and scooped up a few papers as well. He reached underneath his car and pulled out the few there. They were drawings—all different, some good, some bad. He glanced at them nosily, trying not to seem too interested while she put her own handful of papers back in her bag.

"I was just looking for my phone. I must have accidentally trashed it back there with the papers I meant to throw away," she said quickly. She sounded preoccupied. Her voice was a little shaky.

Hotch glanced to the other side of the parking lot where the gray garbage can sat. He then looked back to her. She scooped up a few pencils that had fallen and tossed them in her bag as well. Her face was flushed. She was embarrassed. He assumed the fast talking was attributed to the fact.

"First I almost took you out because you weren't paying attention and then you nearly got me back," Hotch knew that she had meant the words to sound jokingly. She took a quick glance at him and brushed the blonde hair from her eyes. She was smiling, showing the slight dimples on her cheeks. "I am so sorry. You were in a hurry and I-"

He smiled back at her, genuinely this time.

"It's fine. I'm just glad I _didn't_ take you out with my car," he handed her the papers that he'd scooped up.

"Me too…Thanks," she took the drawings from him and stood up.

The lights of the parking lot clicked on as Hotch stood to his feet. A storm was coming and the sky was darkening above them quickly. The moisture was heavy in the air and for a moment Hotch mistook the roar of a motorcycle for a rumble of approaching thunder.

The woman ran her palm down the front of her jeaned pants leg, wiping away a little grit from the parking lot. Hotch happened to glance to the ground.

"Oh here," He bent back down and retrieved her name tag from the ground as soon as it caught his eye. Before handing it to her, he glanced to her ID picture and name. He recognized the ID as a staff member ID from the school even before he read it. Every teacher and office member at the school wore one.

Robin Cole. He mentally read her name and held it out to her. She was obviously an art teacher there. Of course it now made since that she was probably supposed to be grading all of the drawings she carried with her. Teaching responsibilities always followed the teacher home.

"Thanks," she took it from him and dumped it in her purse. She tilted her head to allow the breeze to rake the straight blonde hair from her face.

Hotch turned and glanced back to his car, still sitting with the door open.

"Well since I nearly got myself killed by you and your car, I feel kind of obliged to introduce myself," she smiled and forced a laugh. She shifted the canvas on her hip to hold out her hand.

"I'm Robin."

Hotch shook her hand briefly and then released it. "Aaron," he said quickly.

He cleared his throat.

"Well I'd better go check the can before my phone gets wet. Seriously thanks for not running me over," Robin turned from him, but paused, glancing around the parking lot.

As if on cue, a few rain drops pattered down, clunking on the hood of his car.

He watched her for a moment, and even looked around the nearly emptied lot himself. It was late and nearly every teacher had left.

Robin turned, gave him a slight wave, and then started walking back toward the gray garbage can.

Hotch nodded to her. He watched her for a brief moment. He almost offered to help her look for her phone, but then decided against it. He hadn't known what to say to her. She was friendly but distracted and he hadn't wanted her to think that he was hitting on her in some way or another. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and being too friendly could always be mistaken. She was young, fresh almost, dressed in her colorful turquoise blazer. And she was attractive after all. He guessed that she was probably in her late twenties, possibly even just twenty-five, but he wasn't too sure. He shook his head and walked back around his car. He had to go pick up Jack, thank Jessica, and then tell her that he would most likely need her help with Jack come Monday morning. He climbed back in his car. By now, Robin was jogging past the cars and back towards the garbage can, shielding the top of her head from the small raindrops with one of her dainty hands.

* * *

"Hey Hotch."

Hotch paused in the middle of the hallway and turned back. JJ was hurrying toward him with a few files in her hand. Her blonde hair swayed a little in the breeze she created. It wasn't pulled into a ponytail yet, and it looked a little wet as if she hadn't had time to dry it. Monday mornings were rough for everyone.

"I know that I gave you a lot of files on Friday," she was nearly breathless when she reached him. "But…The Quantico PD contacted us a few weeks ago with a few disappearances. At the time I studied their files, I didn't think there was anything that linked the disappearances together. Neither did they really. Only two women were missing. There was nothing linking them and there were other cases piling up that just demanded our attention. Only one body had been found at the time and then the case went cold."

"Okay? Something changed?" Hotch questioned.

"Yes. It has gone from two women to five. The first three bodies have been found and the last two women have gone missing, one a week from right underneath the PD's noses. One of them disappeared over the weekend, possibly Friday night. Whatever it is, it seems to be escalating. Since we're right here already maybe you could give the files a quick glance. If you think it's worth it then we can brief the team and see if we can find anything that links all of the women together."

"Alright," Hotch nodded and took the files from JJ. He had a feeling that if JJ thought it was worth the look then she was probably right. He trusted her judgment, and rarely had he had the chance to tell the team that they were needed right here in Quantico Virginia.

"In the file, it says that the last woman was reported missing on Sunday, but the PD determined that she was taken on Friday night.," JJ added.

"Alright, I'll take a look."

"But I'll go ahead and warn you, the M.O is all over the place," she reached up and ran a hand through her still wet hair. She locked eyes with him and sighed. "Are you all right Hotch?"

"Yeah," he said quickly. "Just tired."

"I'm gonna go make some coffee. I'll bring you a cup alright?"

"Sounds good," he turned and began walking back towards his office.

Hotch flipped the first file open as he walked. He had nearly an hour before the rest of the team showed up so he wanted to hurry and be ready.

He stopped in his tracks, though, when he saw the picture of the blonde woman in the first file.

"What?" Hotch murmured beneath his breath.

"Hey JJ!" He turned on his heels, file still open in hand.

JJ stopped and turned back to him. "What is it?"

"I saw her."

"What?" She furrowed her eyebrows. She stared walking back towards him.

"I saw her Friday night at the school. I bumped into her when I was late to get Jack.

He watched JJ's mouth drop open slightly.

"Well they found her car in the lot. It hadn't been moved since Friday morning when she got to work," JJ murmured, her voice gravely low. "The PD thinks that she was taken from… there."

Hotch frantically glanced back to the file in his hand. "I was there."

"Hotch."

"I've gotta…I need a piece of paper. Witnesses forget nearly all of what they saw not even an hour afterwards," he said quickly, frantically scanning the first page of Robin's file.

"Hotch," JJ tried again.

"She was…" Hotch's mind whirred. He paused to rub his forehead. "She was wearing a turquoise blazer with gold buttons over a plain white shirt. She had on white heels and black pants. She had two bags with her. Did they find anything at the scene? We have to check that garbage can. She threw something away. Or what if it was just a random abduction? Did the parking lot have cameras?"

JJ furrowed her eyebrows. "Hotch, Calm down…you-"

"I was there. I could've seen him." Hotch exploded.

"Well what happ- I mean did you talk to her?" JJ asked.

Hotch took in a deep breath and looked back down at Robin's picture. It was the same picture he'd seen on her ID.

"Just for a minute," he murmured. "If I wouldn't have been in such a hurry I could've-"

"Hotch, this isn't your fault-"

"I may have been the last one to see her! I was right there. I knew-"

"Hotch, don't blame yourself for this. You've blamed yourself plenty these past few months for things you could not control. Don't make this personal."

"This has nothing to do with what happened to Haley," Hotch snapped. "This is just about the fact that I could've stopped this had I just-"

"Hello my wonderful coworkers," Penelope Garcia's voice echoed down the hallway.

Hotch raised his glare from JJ and looked to Garcia. JJ turned as well. Garcia wore a bright pink dress and she seemed just as peppy as usual. She had a large pink bow in her hair that bounced as she walked.

"I know that it's a blah Monday morning so I picked up some muffins and coffee-" she stopped when she saw their expressions. "Oh goodness…uh..."

Hotch swallowed hard and then closed the file. The room felt suddenly hot and stuffy. The only thing that he could think of was getting to the parking lot where it had happened but he knew better. He knew that he had to look at the files. The profile was the way to go. How many times had he told everyone else that? How many times had he told them that they must keep a level head?

He couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened the moment he pulled out of the parking lot. She was probably taken not a moment after. Why hadn't he stopped and watched her walk to that garbage can and then back to her car? She would have been a prime target- a pretty, distracted, woman walking to her car all alone.

"JJ, brief Garcia and get ready. We're staying here in Quantico for this," Hotch ordered suddenly. He turned away from her before she could answer and he headed for his office.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I'm sorry that I may not be able to update very quickly. I'm thinking I may be getting Carpal Tunnel and it is literally killing me that I can't type very much at a time, especially when all I want to do is write. Next chapter will begin getting into the action._

If only he'd been there a few minutes later.

Hotch shook his head at his own thoughts. He stared hard at the files in his hands. With Haley, he'd needed to be there just a few minutes earlier. Of course not everything worked out in the favor of everyone; he knew that. But how many others could say that if it wasn't for them, their child would still have his mother. Or that if they would have paid better attention, a class of twenty something odd students would still have their teacher and a family would still have their daughter. JJ, Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid sat around the table beside him, but everyone was taking turns looking at a copy of the files. They weren't speaking much. It was still early.

Hotch was trying to be logical, trying to look at the evidence with a level head, but the entire case frustrated him. He had just learned more about Robin's life than he ever expected he would. Just a few days ago, she was a stranger, but now he felt that he knew really knew her. She was single, never had been married and didn't have kids. She was born in Mississippi but moved to Virginia.

"Okay guys," Garcia called out as she entered the room. She pulled Hotch's attention from the files and from thinking about Robin's background. He looked up to the screen. Garcia clicked her remote and a picture of a skinny brunette woman popped on the screen. Her straight, long hair was thin and her features were slightly gaunt.

Everyone around him looked to the screen as well.

"The first victim to disappear was Charlie Renee Moore. She was thirty-eight years old," Garcia began. "Her body was found on February tenth in a local park by a family who were walking their dogs."

She clicked the remote again and the picture of the woman's body appeared, fully clothed among the leaves and grass of the ground. A white sheet lay on the ground nearby.

"The park is only a few miles away from the gas station that she is thought to have been abducted from on February the seventh. She'd only been working there a few weeks when she disappeared while waiting for her ride in the parking lot. The camera in the lot caught her walking out of view, but her friend says that she was gone when she went to get her. She was nearly a transient, never stayed in one place for too long. She had a history of alcohol abuse and a few run ins with the law because of that," JJ added.

She walked around the table to stand beside Garcia.

"Cause of death? Reid asked.

"Uh, this is where the M.O starts to go all over the place. She died of an overdose, and she is a brunette, unlike the other victims," JJ answered.

"Overdose of what?" Prentiss questioned.

"Over the counter Aspirin," JJ added before Garcia could.

"And she did not go easy," Garcia said quickly.

"Yeah, technically overdosing on over the counter medicine is far more painful. A lot of suicide attempters who overdose actually survive the ordeal with damage for the rest of their lives. Aspirin in large doses causes vomiting, dehydration, fever, hyperventilation, or respiratory failure. Ultimately it causes convulsions and eventually a coma. It's messy. It takes hours to actually die from it though symptoms can begin just three hours after the overdose," Reid explained.

"Aspirin?" Morgan questioned. "Was there a sexual assault?"

"Nada," Garcia answered.

"Well why would an unsub kidnap a woman just to overdose her on Aspirin?" Morgan asked as he leaned back in his chair.

"Maybe a trial run? Maybe he's gaining courage. Charlie was practice," Rossi stated. "He was nervous so he didn't fulfill his fantasies."

"And he wrapped the body in a sheet…so the body positioning suggests some level of guilt?" JJ added.

Hotch stayed silent. Since he had already read the files, he was just thinking and listening to the team's thoughts. He knew that JJ had told the team about his brief encounter with Robin. He had seen the team's quick glances toward his office, and they hadn't bombarded him with questions—one of the many perks of working with profilers who knew when not to approach someone.

"Rose Wilson is the second victim to disappear and the second to be found. As you can see, she is a red head, and unlike our last victim…uh Rose was stabbed and sexually assaulted—no overdose here. Both victims were bound though. They had nearly identical ligature marks on their wrists and ankles," Garcia clicked her remote again.

A bloody picture popped on the screen, showing the stab wounds on Rose's chest. Her purple shirt was stained with blood. The next picture was a side by side of both victim's arms- red and raw from the bindings that once held them in place.

"Was there DNA found?" Morgan asked.

"Uh yes, but it didn't match any that was already present in our databases," Garcia answered.

"So he might be a new offender," Prentiss murmured.

"It seems that they were both bound with a rough braided rope because it scratched and perforated their skin. Rose disappeared on February the twenty-first while walking her dog in the same park that Charlie's body was found in on the tenth. Her boyfriend called the police that night when she didn't come home from the afternoon walk and he couldn't get in touch with her by her cell phone."

"Was the dog found?" Reid interrupted Garcia.

"Yes. The little pug was found in the park all alone, dragging his leash," Garcia answered. "Rose's body was found early on the twenty-fourth, lying among some bags of fertilizer at the local home depot parking lot, wrapped in a sheet. And Rose wasn't a transient like Charlie."

"But she was walking alone, maybe a victim of opportunity," Reid said.

"How many other women are missing?" Morgan asked. He leaned forward to reach for his own copy of information.

"He escalated," Prentiss murmured. "Or there is two unsubs. That's pretty dramatic to go from overdosing a victim on Aspirin to sexually assaulting and stabbing the next one."

"But the binds are the same if there are two unsubs?" JJ questioned. "The sheets weren't the same. Not from the same set."

"Maybe they're bouncing ideas off of each other," Prentiss added.

"He seems comfortable in the area. He's not moving much, dumping a body in a park and then abducting a woman later from the same park," Rossi added.

"Kayla Rollins was abducted next," Garcia continued. The Medical examiner determined that she died from blunt force trauma to the head. She was neither stabbed nor overdosed on Aspirin, but she was sexually assaulted."

"Well is he just trying out every way to kill?" Prentiss blurted out.

"Sick bastard must not have found what does it for him yet…or he is just killing them because they are a witness," Rossi muttered. "Was she wrapped in a sheet?"

Garcia nodded. "Yep. She disappeared March seventh. She worked as secretary at Hill Law Firm. Her coworkers said that she usually walked across the street to get coffee, but this particular evening she didn't return and her car was still in the parking lot."

"And then they didn't find her body until five days later," Hotch interrupted. "She wasn't wrapped in a sheet, and she was kept the longest. It was determined that she was kept alive those five days. They found her body by the dumpster of a grocery store, far enough away from it that it would not be in the frame of the security camera."

"Hannah Nichols was abducted next and her body has not been found," Garcia clicked her remote. "She lived with her parents while attending a community college and her parents said that she went out on March the fourteenth but didn't return that Friday night or the next day. That's when her parents got worried. Police found her car parked on the side of the highway—care trouble.

Hotch stared at her picture on the screen. She was an attractive and healthy looking girl. She had long black hair and a white smile, but outwardly, she didn't seem to have a thing in common with the other victims.

"And then our last victim, Robin MaryAnna Cole," Hotch noticed that Garcia diverted her gaze to his the moment she spoke her name.

Garcia looked away from him to point her remote at the screen though. Robin's school ID picture appeared on the screen.

"She is blonde, twenty-six, and a high school art teacher at North Ridge High School. Her twenty-seventh birthday is actually next week. Let's get her home for it alright guys?" Garcia said hopefully.

"She is thought to have been taken from the parking lot across from the elementary school and I know this is probably irrelevant, but she is an amazing artist. I came across some of her work a little while ago and it's amazi—well she's an art teacher so of course it is, but …yeah…you all already know about her disappearance. I filled you in," Garcia blurted out quickly. "They found her purse and a bag in the parking lot not too far from her car."

"Okay so, the seventh, twenty-first, seventh, and fourteenth… oh and the twenty-first again. They were all abducted on a Friday." Reid announced. "And found on a Sunday, a Monday, and a Wednesday so far."

"Well the unsub dumped the first three in public places, where's the fourth body, considering that maybe the last one, Robin is still alive with him?" Morgan questioned.

"Something gets this creep's motor running on Fridays," Prentiss muttered.

"Obviously there is a sexual component to the last three kills," Hotch finally spoke up. "But the poisoning seems like an indirect way of killing. The stabbing was overkill, direct, and meaningful. One good stab to the chest would have done it. And the blunt force trauma to the head was violent, overly excessive too."

"Hatred for women maybe," JJ added.

"Well do you think we are talking about a submissive and a dominant pairing or just someone who escalated?" Rossi asked.

Hotch rubbed his chin. "The dominants do make the submissives prove their loyalty. Maybe the overdose was the submissive's loyalty test. It doesn't exactly fit in with the violent behavior exhibited in the other kills."

"Maybe the submissive didn't want to inflict pain on the victim. Overdosing her on Aspirin really doesn't sound like a violent way to go to someone who didn't know the side effects," Reid added.

"If all of the victims were just victims of opportunity then this unsub will be a lot harder to find. Especially since no witness have come forward," Prentiss murmured.

"Pretty much all we know so far is that his or their only preference is that the victim be a female. They would have to have their own transportation for abduction and disposal and that they may have some sort or ruse or that they are seemingly normal," Hotch said as he raised his eyes from his files and laid them aside. "And he abducts on Fridays."

Silence settled in the room for a few seconds until JJ finally spoke up.

"Hotch, I talked to the PD and I told them that you saw her Friday and it actually fits in with a story that they received from a janitor. He was getting off work when he said he saw the victim—well Robin talking to a man in a suit in the parking lot. He said he watched the man leave and he left not long after. Your car matches the description. He didn't get your license plate number though. The janitor told police that the lot was nearly empty."

"Have they questioned the janitor?" Hotch demanded.

"Yeah his alibi worked out. He picked up his kids from a babysitter directly after," JJ said.

Hotch tried to clear the janitor idea from his mind.

"Garcia, I need you to delve in and see if they had anything in common—all of the victims," Hotch ordered. "And then find me as much information about Robin Cole as you can. We need to focus on the victimology."

"I'll get right on it sir," she nodded.

"Okay, Reid, you and JJ go to the police station. Rossi and I will go to the scene of the recent abduction-"

"It rained all weekend, Hotch," JJ murmured softly.

Hotch paused. "Well can you just contact someone from the case to meet me there anyway?"

JJ nodded. "Of course."

"And Morgan and Prentiss, go to her house. I'll meet you there shortly," Hotch ordered.

"Yeah, the police haven't searched it yet. They were just going to after contacting her parents about her car in the lot, but security footage showed no passage through the apartment since she left it before she disappeared so I told them to wait and let us look at it uncontaminated. And her parents haven't been in it either. They're flying in from Mississippi."

"Okay. She threw something in the garbage at the parking lot and I want to see what it was," Hotch murmured.

"When I asked, they told me that they took all of the garbage in to the lab," JJ said as she began gathering files on the table. "It'll be waiting for you when you get a chance to go there."

"Okay," Hotch rose to his feet. Every followed his lead, gathering their things.

He was anxious to get started—extremely anxious.

The situation reminded him of how he'd been trying to remember not to be so serious. That was what Haley had told him right before she died, but he couldn't figure out how he was supposed to do it. When things like what happened to Haley and Robin happened to countless innocent people every single day, how was someone supposed to walk through life carefree?

"Hey man,"

Hotch turned back to face Morgan. Only he, Rossi and Morgan were left in the room, but Rossi was staring down at a file on the table.

"I know it's hard, man,, but it wasn't your fault. "

Hotch stared back at Morgan. He had a feeling that someone would soon say something.

"JJ told me you were blaming yourself and you're putting too much on you own plate. That woman didn't know, and you didn't know that something like this would happen."

"I think she may have known something was up," Hotch murmured.

"You think that she knew someone was after her?"

"I don't know, Morgan. The more I think about it….She was flustered but trying hard not to show that anything was wrong. Her behavior was like…like that of someone who had just found out bad news but hadn't had time to deal with it yet. Do you know what I mean?"

Morgan nodded slowly- as if he was thinking, but he didn't say anything.

"But tell me you wouldn't feel the same way," Hotch added. "He kept all of the victims alive for different periods of time. Robin may already be dead."

"I don't think so Hotch," Morgan murmured. "I won't think anything close to that until we find the body of the fourth victim. It should be in a public place by now, but it isn't."

Morgan reached up and gripped his shoulder. He squeezed it slightly and then nodded to him.

"We got this," he murmured. "We're gonna find Robin…and after we do, I wanna hear personally from you what the two of y'all were talking about in that parking lot," Morgan smiled and released his shoulder. "And I think that she's gonna get to thank you personally for getting the BAU on her case."

He turned and headed to catch up with the rest of the team.

Hotch let out a deep breath as he watched Morgan leave. He turned back to Rossi when a pang of desperation ran through him.

"Are you ready?" Rossi picked his jacket up off the back of his chair.

Hotch nodded and scooped his copy of files from the table.

"We're gonna find this guy, Hotch. He's random and he'll slip up. He probably already has somewhere…we just have to find it."

"But it may be too late for her," Hotch raised his eyes back to the screen. Garcia had left Robin's picture on it, floating and frozen in time while the rest of them hurried to get to work.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews. I really appreciate them and they motivate me to get the next chapter out faster so please continue!_

As he parked the black SUV not far from the chief of police's car, Hotch stared out the window at the full parking lot. There was no crime scene tape and no sign that anything at all had happened there just a few short days ago.

To him, it was always strange going to the scene of a crime that had occurred days earlier. People were there acting as if nothing had happened. The world went right back into place without the poor soul who was victimized, kidnapped…or killed. The world could forget. People were easily replaced.

It was Monday morning and the lot was full of the school administration's cars—well minus one member. JJ told him that Robin's car had been moved for evidence. Everything had already been removed.

"It's hard to believe that this was the scene of a crime," Rossi said as he reached down to unbuckle his seat belt.

Hotch was in too much of a hurry to respond in agreement. He got out and headed toward the chief of police, leaving Rossi to catch up.

"Hey Aaron," Dennis Macon reached out his hand. "Long time no see. It's hard to believe that we even work in the same town isn't it? We never see each other. I hate to meet under such circumstances though." The older man did not seem to be too affected or worried about the crimes he was investigating. His happiness only agitated Hotch.

Hotch nodded. He shook Dennis's hand. "Yeah, me too. This is SSA David Rossi," Hotch motioned to Rossi.

"Alright well, it rained all weekend. The only evidence we could get from here was the car—still locked up tight, a soaking we purse and bag full of wet papers. I assumed it was her teaching bag—papers to grade and what not. And we also took the trash for evidence because her pink bag wasn't far from it. We found her purse closer to her car though. Everything is drying in evidence. I hate that something like this happened at all, but especially here at the school. I mean what if this creep moves to kids next?"

"That would be extremely rare. I think it's safe to say that his preferential targets are women," Rossi murmured.

"Yeah. Can you start at the beginning?" Hotch asked.

He knew from experience that Dennis Macon liked to talk, and he didn't have the time to listen to anything other than what happened to the other women or Robin.

"From the beginning…well the principal had been doing some work over the weekend. He tried to get in touch with Robin Cole when he recognized her car in the lot and saw that her purse and bag was laying out here. He got in touch with us and we called her parents in Mississippi. They had been trying to call her too and they had been ready to call the police themselves. They said that they heard from her every single day. No one had heard from her since Friday. We got out here Sunday evening. I called Miss Jareau back because of all of the other disappearances. I thought that we needed the help. We were gonna go to Miss Cole's apartment but Miss Jareau said that we should wait on your team."

"Which car was hers? Where was it parked?" Hotch asked.

"Red Nissan Altima. 2010. Parked right over there," Dennis pointed and Hotch turned.

She hadn't been parked far from where he had parked that day.

"And that is where her purse was found?"

"Yep. So you talked to her?"

"She stepped out in front of my car when I was leaving. We only talked for a brief minute or two. She tossed something in the garbage and she seemed…flustered or something…so I wanna look at it," Hotch explained.  
"It's odd isn't it? That she would bump into an active FBI agent and still get kidnapped."

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows.

"Oh but I didn't mean it's your fault," the man quickly corrected himself.

"As soon as possible please, I'd like to look at the evidence," Hotch added shortly.

A surge of guilt, anger, and urgency ran through him. Every time he thought of Robin he felt completely overwhelmed. If he didn't find her in time, her death was on him. Maybe the team wouldn't think so, but he would…and other people probably would too. The moments were ticking by, and he didn't have to ask Reid to know that the statistics weren't good. He nearly jumped at the sound of his phone ringing and cursed his own nerves.

"Excuse me," He hurriedly pulled it from his pocket and turned away.

"Yeah Morgan?"

"Me and Prentiss came across Robin's laptop and we had it sent to Garcia because it was locked. I told her if she came across anything on it to let us know."

"Alright. Have you come across anything odd at her apartment?" Hotch's eyes drifted to the area that her car had been parked.

There was a brief moment of silence on Morgan's end.

"I…I don't know, Hotch. Me and Prentiss are gonna look around a little more. I think that a few things will be worth looking into but…"

Hotch strained to hear the background noise. He could hear Prentiss saying something.

"Just call me back," Hotch finally said. "I've gotta get back to the station and look at the evidence."

"I will. Hopefully Garcia will call back soon with a little more information on Robin," Morgan answered.

Hotch hung up and turned back to Macon and Rossi.

"Alright…Well I'm gonna go by the station and look at evidence before I go to her apartment," Hotch murmured. He felt that he had absolutely no time to waste.

"Was her cell phone found?" Rossi interrupted.

"It wasn't in any of the evidence that we found yet."

"_I was just looking for my phone. I must have accidentally trashed it back there with the papers I meant to throw away."_

"She didn't know where it was. She thought that she may have accidentally thrown it in the garbage," Hotch blurted out quickly. In his mind, he saw her smiling as she played off her nerves and the urgency she had had that evening.  
"We didn't find it," Macon retorted.

Hotch pulled his phone back out and dialed Garcia.

"Speak and be heard," Garcia answered.

"Garcia, can you get a track on Robin's cell phone?"

"Yes sir. I'll get right back to you."

Hotch hung up. He looked to the corner of the parking lot where the garbage can had sat. Mentally, he pictured her standing there beside it as she dug through her bag. She'd been vulnerable there, and there was practically no traffic—foot or vehicle.

"So…I left when she was at the garbage can…Someone must have approached her there for her to drop one bag there and then another at her car," Hotch murmured. "Did you find a painting?"

"A painting? No," Macon answered.

"It was on the board and material…uh…" Hotch paused, trying to think of the name.

"Canvas?" Rossi questioned.

"Yeah it was pretty big. Maybe 15 by 20 inches or so. She carried it tucked under her arm."

Macon shook his head.

"Maybe it was a trophy," Rossi added. "He took it with him."

"So he or they chased her from the garbage can to her car. She couldn't get it unlocked," Hotch talked aloud.

And how far had he gotten before they pounced? Was he just down the road?

Hotch's phone rang again.

"Where's it at Garcia?" Hotch pressed the speakerphone button and held his phone out in front of him.

"I'm sorry but they must have destroyed her phone, sir. It's not showing a location at all and it should because it's the newest iphone. It's not like it's one of the old Nokias ya know?" Garcia said quickly.

"Well what about the last location or the towers it pinged-"

"Already got that sir. The last location was…..approximately… a mile away from the school. I sent the coordinates to your phone."

"Okay I'm headed there now," Hotch blurted out.

"I'll go too," Dennis said quickly.

* * *

Robin squinted her eyes shut. He was so close to her. She flinched when she felt the sharp bristles of the old brush scratch her scalp. He gently ran his fingers through her blonde hair, removing the tangles, and slowly brushing it. Behind her, she twisted her hands, making the rough yellow rope burn her skin. It was tight—too tight for her to loosen herself. It was the same way on her ankles, and duct tape was wrapped around her ribcage and the chair behind her, holding her in place.

"I'm sorry. He…He promised me that he wouldn't hurt you if I helped him."

Robin kept her eyes shut. He was sitting directly in front of her on a little wooden stool—so close that she could feel his breath as he talked to her.

She held her own breath as she felt his fingers touch her throbbing eye and cheek. His touch was gentle and light. He removed his fingers as quickly as he placed them there.

"You can…you can just untie me. Say that I escaped. I won't tell on you, ya know-"

"I can't."

Robin felt her heart sink in her chest. She'd already tried to escape once. She had the bruises to show for it, and her feet were stained with mud. Her shoes were…somewhere. She wasn't even sure. They were removed so that she would not kick and injure anyone with her heels.

"But I'll take care of you…I'll help him find someone else to that he won't hurt you anymore."

Robin moistened her dry lips. They no longer tasted like blood, and the slit on her bottom lip had crusted over. She finally opened her eyes and met his familiar ones. He held her gaze for a brief moment before looking away.

"What did I do to him?" she whispered lowly. "And what did I do to you? I'm sorry if I offended either of you somehow-"

He lowered the brush to his lap and awkwardly twisted his hands together. Robin fell silent. This was the most that he had spoken to her since she'd been taken. She was trying to be…nice at least, trying to gain some sort of trust with him. Fighting had only gotten her a black eye and bruises from the other one.

"I'm sorry I tried to run," she blurted out.

"I'll get you some water," he suddenly climbed to his feet and pushed the stool away.

"Wait, please," she called out, and he turned back to her immediately.

"Where is he now?" she questioned.

"We can't both be here during the day. It would look suspicious. He told me that we can't make a pattern."

Robin watched him turn back away from her. She could feel a painful lump growing in her throat. She wondered if anyone even realized that she was gone yet. A chill coursed through her, and she looked down at the small drops of blood on the front of her white shirt. She had literally bumped right into an FBI agent as if it had been fate, but then she'd let him just ride away.

Robin whimpered aloud as she tried to jerk her hands free.

"Please stop," he turned back to face her. "You know he's not as nice as I am."

Robin stopped moving.

"This isn't fair!" she choked out. "Please!"

She watched him leave the room anyway. He shut the door back behind him, leaving her alone in the small bedroom. It was basic. It only had a chest of drawers, a bed, and the chair that she sat in; but across from her, her nearly finished painting hung on the wall. There was a window, but it was plastered with newspaper, blocking out most of the sunlight. She had no idea where she was. They had covered her eyes.

Robin thought back to Friday evening. What had the man she'd met said his name was? She'd first heard it when she past him in the main office. She'd heard him and the principal talking and she'd eavesdropped as she passed through. He was trying to find out where his son was or something, but the principle had mentioned the FBI, actually the BAU. That was when his professional suit made sense to her. He was an agent. It also made sense that he had stopped to help her.

Andy? He'd also introduced himself after she'd nearly gotten herself run over in the parking lot—when he'd stopped to help her. No, Aaron. He had been nice, almost concerned for her in the empty parking lot.

"Aaron," she whispered beneath her breath. That was it.

Maybe he would recognize her. Maybe someone would put her name and picture on a flyer or something. Maybe Aaron would remember her.

Robin shook her head at her own stupid, desperate thinking. He didn't and couldn't possibly know what had happened to her. And that was all her fault. No one would suspect that this had happened.

* * *

"Hey, JJ," Hotch held his phone to his ear as he and Rossi headed back toward the SUV.

"Yes?"

"Get Reid to look through the evidence that they took from the garbage can and Robin's bag and purse that were found at the scene. I'm going with Rossi and Macon to the last coordinates that Robin's phone pinged."

"Okay sure, just let me know," JJ answered him.

"Tell him I want to know what she threw away," Hotch added.

"Alright."

Hotch let Rossi drive this time. He ran around to get in the passenger side as he pulled up the coordinates on his phone.

* * *

Robin tensed when the bedroom door opened, but it was just him again—holding the promised bottle of water.

"Hey what happened to the other girl?" she questioned carefully.

She'd only seen the other girl for a minute. She had heard more from her than she'd seen. That girl had kept the other one busy. She knew that he was torturing her in the other room. She had looked half-dead when she'd seen her, and now Robin assumed she was.

"He took her out."

"Out? Like he killed her?" her voice cracked a little.

He stepped up to her and unscrewed the bottle cap.

"I can't untie you, but here," he raised the bottle to her lips and she shook her head.

"No," she muttered. "I don't want any."

He lowered the bottle to hang by his side.

"I'm trying to help you," he whispered.

"Why?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he murmured.

Robin watched him carefully.

He looked to the ground, fiddling with the bottle cap in his free hand.

"What was it supposed to be like?" she questioned softly.

"He told me that he could make you feel about me the way I feel about you."

Robin furrowed her eyebrows. She felt her mouth drop open slightly. She recovered quickly, closed her mouth and cleared her throat as a thought crossed her mind.

"I'm… sorry," she whispered. "May I have some water now?"

He suddenly looked embarrassed. He stared down at the water bottle in his hand.

"Please?" she whispered politely?

"Please just be good and he may not hurt you," he murmured. "The other ones made him angry."

Robin nodded. She counted being beaten up as being hurt by him, but she didn't say anything. She knew it could be far worse. He'd hit her a few times when they abducted her and then every time she'd tried to escape up until they'd finally taped and tied her to the chair. Now, every breath sent stabs of pain in her sides and her stomach.

"I can't promise that he won't try to hurt you now that the other one is gone though." He continued.

Robin let out a shaky breath. The other one hadn't paid her much attention yet, but now she was really scared that he would.

"He shouldn't though," he argued with himself. "He knows how I feel…about you."

* * *

"Take the next right," Hotch motioned to the windshield as his phone rang.

He glanced down to it quickly, surprised that Reid would call so quickly.

"What is it Reid?"

"Hey Hotch I'm gonna send you a few pictures of some pieces of paper that were in the garbage. They're still drying and the writing and drawing is a little faint, but it was all the papers in there. The rest was just bottles and some decorations and signs from the last school play. It think that this is what you wanted, but I'm not sure what it is-"

"Okay were they balled up? She balled some up," he pointed to the right for Rossi.

"Yeah they were," Reid answered. "And I think the paper matches the kind of paper that she had in her school bag."

"Okay I'll call you back," Hotch hung up and looked at his GPS again. "Whoa wait. Right here somewhere."

Rossi slowed to a stop as he looked out of the windows. Macon slowed his police car behind them. There was a field on both sides of the road; they weren't in the suburbs any longer.

Hotch craned his neck to stare out his window. "Hold on…I…," a rush of adrenaline coursed through him. "I see her jacket. Pull to this side."

A wad of turquoise material hung messily from a shrub beneath a tree.

Rossi swerved to the right, sending small pieces of gravel skittering beneath the SUV's wheels. Hotch slung his door open, slipped his phone in his pocket and jogged to it. It hung beside an old barbed wire fence.

Hotch stopped in front of it and craned his neck to look at it without touching it. It was wadded and missing a few of the gold buttons.

"It has a few blood stains on it," he murmured. He expected that much. A struggle probably ensued in the parking lot. The distance between her purse and other bag told him that.

"How much?" Rossi called.

"Just a little," Hotch reached in his pocket and pulled out a rubber glove. He slipped it on and then reached for the jacket.

Touching it sent a surge of emotion through him. He didn't feel any closer to her. He felt farther away instead.

"Here's her phone…crushed," Macon called out.

Hotch forced his eyes away from the light blazer in his hands.

"This looks like a toss and go," Macon muttered.

"We need to bag both of these," Hotch looked back to the jacket in his hands.

"Just hang on a little longer," Hotch murmured beneath his breath.

His phone dinged in his pocket.

* * *

"So um…You like my painting?" Robin questioned lightly. She sniffed a little and tried to keep her voice strong.

He was sitting on the wooden stool again, but he was sitting in front of the open doorway. He turned to look at it. It was a painting of a dark womanly shape gazing into a mirror—it was unfinished and slightly abstract. She had had plans to make the reflection different than the main subject.

"I like all of your work," he responded.

Robin forced a smile. She really just wanted to cry, but she refused to let the tears fall. She was trying to be friendly to him—worried about when the other one would show back up. It was getting later and with every passing moment, she felt her small ounce of courage wavering—her hope faltering.

"I really like the way that you do your makeup too."

Robin's smile faded.

"It's not over the top. It's simple," he murmured softly. He was looking at her now—studying her as if she were the painting.

She looked down to the floor. Her mind was whirring. She needed a plan. She had to get out- had to save herself.

* * *

Hotch stared out into the small field as Macon bagged the blazer and crushed iphone into evidence bags. He'd tried to look at the photos that Reid had sent but the sun had been too bright on his screen. He couldn't see it clear enough to see what was on the wrinkled paper.

What was Robin doing now? What was she being subjected to? How much longer would she have?

Hotch still didn't know if there was one kidnapper or two. He wanted to go touch base with the rest of the team and see if they had anything else.

"The blood may not be hers," Rossi murmured.

Hotch turned as Rossi stepped up beside him.

"It probably is," Hotch responded.

He looked back to the shrub he had picked the blazer from.

"Are they just lucky?" Hotch muttered. "He snatches a woman here and a woman there yet no one sees?"

"His luck will run out soon," Rossi murmured. "It just always seems that they get away more than they get caught."

Hotch shook his head. "So he took her and they tossed her coat and cell phone out of the window. I understand getting rid of the phone—for tracking purposes, but why the coat? That's leaving evidence behind."

"He's not a professional….Did Reid send the pictures?"

"Yeah, but it's too bright out here to see them. Let's go," Hotch answered. He couldn't stand around. They had a profile to put together.

"Hey, I know you aren't doubting the team now?" Rossi questioned.

"No," Hotch answered immediately. "I'm not…at all. I'm questioning me. I'm…I'm not paying as much attention…I…," he fell silent and his phone rang.

"JJ," he murmured to Rossi before he answered.

"Hey JJ, we only found her phone and her coat. It looks like they were just tossed while they were on the move, but Macon is gonna get some dogs out here-."

"Hotch," JJ interrupted him.

"What?" Hotch felt his stomach lurch. His mouth felt dry and he felt his heat flutter in his chest.

"They just found the body of the fourth victim. Hannah Nichols.

Hotch turned back to Rossi and Macon. Macon was on his phone as well. By the look on his face, Hotch assumed that he had just gotten the same news from the other officers.

"They're sure it's her and not…Robin?" Hotch's own voice sounded foreign to him.

"She had a tattoo on her foot. Robin doesn't. They're pretty sure." JJ answered him. "Oh and Robin Cole's parents' plane just landed."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you to those that have reviewed. I really appreciate it._

Hotch pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building where Robin Cole lived, and he parked his SUV by the one that Prentiss and Morgan had rode in. He kept reminding himself that they were doing everything that they could to build the profile.

He had every member of the team split up and assigned to every task they had to do. Prentiss and Morgan were still searching the apartment, Rossi had ridden with Macon and the two of them were going to go the recent crime scene, JJ and Reid were working on the profile by studying the evidence there, and Garcia was doing her usual thing.

Hotch himself felt pulled in a million different directions. Sure, they were finding out a little more about Robin Cole's abduction, but nothing seemed to point to a stereotypical profile, and he couldn't stop thinking about her. He parked his vehicle and pulled his phone back out. He hoped that he would hear from the medical examiner or Rossi sometime soon about the condition of Hannah Nichols recently found body.

He reopened the picture that Reid had sent him and stared down at it. It was a pen drawing, smudged and crinkled. It was a heart, nearly three dimensional and very detailed. The ink had bled a lot and Hotch couldn't determine what had been drawn in the very middle of it. The whole drawing was pretty sketchy and a little longer in the rain, he figured that he wouldn't have even been able to see that it was a heart.

"What were you so upset about?" Hotch murmured aloud. He backtracked in his mind, running through their short conversation. He rewatched her walk away again and again in his mind.

His initial thought had been that perhaps someone had given the drawing to her, but he didn't see a name on it and Reid had told him that nothing was on the back of it either. But why had she been so eager to throw the drawing away that evening?

He only stared at it for a few more moments before he put his phone back in his pocket and headed inside the apartment complex. It was fairly nice and had adequate security cameras. Hotch knew that the PD already had the tapes though, so he went ahead to Robin's room.

When he got there, he reached out and twisted the knob, but it was locked. Confused, he felt for the slip of paper in his pocket that he'd written the apartment number on. Before he could find it in his pocket, a chain of vicious barks exploded from the other side of the door, though. Hotch took a fearful step back, but he heard the doorknob jiggle as someone unlocked it.

As the door cracked open, the first thing that Hotch saw was the brown muzzle of a very angry and barking dog. "Whoa!" He took another step back and rested his hand on the pistol at his side, ready to pull it out at any second.

"Relax, Hotch. He's fine," Morgan called from the other side of the door. Morgan closed the crack and then reopened the door the rest of the way, but he then reached down to grab the dog's red collar. Hotch leaned back against the opposite hallway wall.

The large German shepherd whimpered.

"Hey get back," Morgan used his leg to jostle the dog back behind him in the doorway. "Sorry, man, one of us must've accidentally brushed against the lock. It's actually kinda tricky."

Hotch attempted to swallow away the panic in his throat.

The dog sat back on its haunches not far behind Morgan's legs.

"Why is there a dog still in there?" Hotch demanded.

"Her family hadn't made it here yet and neither had the cops. We were the first to get here," Morgan answered. "C'mon," Garcia's on the phone."

Hotch moved forward but kept his hand on his gun. He paused in the doorway.

"He won't bite," Morgan reached down and touched the dog's head. "He…Well She really isn't a good watch dog." In his other hand he held his cell phone.

"Seems okay to me," Hotch muttered.

He stepped inside and passed the dog who quickly reached its neck out to sniff at his shoes and pants.

"Are you scared of dogs, Hotch?" Garcia's voice echoed from Morgan's phone. She laughed.

"No," He answered flatly. "I had a German Shepherd when I was little."

"Hotch is scared of the big bad dog that's been licking all over Derek and Emily," she teased. "What was your dog's name then Hotch?"

"Lucky," he said dully.

Morgan released the dog and shut the door behind them.

"Eh, figures," Penelope said.

Hotch sidestepped the dog, preferring to ignore it rather than give it the affection it seemed to want. He didn't want to trip over it the entire time and he assumed if he did acknowledge it, it would not stop. He also didn't want to get the dog hair on his pants.

Robin's kitchen was fairly basic, but it was clean. It was white and bright with a few flecks of color in the interesting décor. She had a few odd shaped glass and colorful vases positioned around. She had a nice but small bar that was only big enough for two stools to reside beneath it. Her counters were clean and clutter free, but on the bar she had a bottle of wine and a glass—just one. His eyes scanned the countertops and glass cabinet doors. Nothing seemed oddly out of place. Everything inside the cabinets just looked like the usual plates, cups, bowls, and other small apparel. Her black refrigerator was bare with only a few fruit shaped magnets clinging on it.

Her living room was a different story, however. It didn't look like a living room. Hotch took a few more steps inside and paused. The dog hurried to keep up with him. Its nails clicked on the linoleum as it continued sniffing at his shoes. Prentiss was standing beside the couch, flipping through a folder of papers. The couch was green but had stacks of books, folders, and drawings on it. It sat to the right of the balcony window across from him. One easel sat in front of the window and it held a blue and green speckled canvas. Something was drawn on it lightly but he could not see it from the distance. Another sat on the left side of the room opposite the green couch. It held a still life painting in the works. Directly beside it, the subject, a glass bowl of fake fruit sat on a wooden stool.

A few green plants in assorted colored pots were positioned around the room and there was a radio pulled to the middle of the floor. Its cord was stretched to its limit and plugged into a wall outlet. A white bed sheet was spread across the majority of the opened floor space, covering the hardwood flooring.

"What's the dog's name, guys?" Penelope asked.

"We don't know," Prentiss answered her. She looked back to Morgan who held the phone out, ensuring that everyone could hear Garcia.

"Okay well anyway, as I was saying, Robin MaryAnna Cole has never been married. No kids. Graduate of VCUarts, which is the Virginia Commonwealth University School of the arts for those of you, like me, who are not knowledgeable of the arts. She moved from Mississippi to attend that school and remained here ever since. After graduating, she worked for a short time at Brookwell Elementary School before transferring to the school she was abducted from. And there she worked at the high school as the art teacher. There's really not much on her really. She has no arrest records. No run ins with the police except for one speeding ticket when she was twenty. She paid it. I'm currently tracking her credit card purchases, but I haven't found anything in common with any of the other victims."

"So it's just random like we thought?" Prentiss murmured. She laid the stack of papers she'd been going through on the couch.

"But it gets a little interesting when one looks at her computer history," Penelope started.

"How?" Morgan asked.

"Her recent searches include a LOT of fancy art terminology that I had to google just to make sure it wasn't anything suspicious. Like Chiaroscuro," Garcia held out the syllables.

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"Anybody know what that is?"

"Boy genius isn't here, Garcia," Morgan said.

"Well it deals with the contrast of light and dark areas. Its purpose is to make sure that one effectively creates the illusion that there is depth and space. But anyway, her Facebook account was logged in and I didn't see anything suspicious there. She really doesn't share that much except for the paintings or artwork that she finishes. She has less friends on there than I do. Which I thought was odd but hey maybe the girl cares about her privacy."

Hotch took a few steps in her living room and eyed the tubes of paint, water glasses full of paintbrushes and other odd art utensils scattered around the room. She had turned her living room into a brightly lit studio. An assortment of lamps were positioned around the room.

"Oh and she is fairly popular in the art world. Around here anyway. Her artwork has been displayed in a few. She has or had an exhibit in the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts and she's sold-"

"But what about the fishy part, Garcia?" Hotch interrupted.

"Well the big But comes in here. She searched for information about stalkers."

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows. He turned back to face everyone.

"What kind of information of stalkers?" he asked.

"Well for instance, she asked, what percentage of stalkers are actually dangerous, granted she didn't exactly go to trusting sources but still-"

"Hold on Garcia," Morgan interrupted. "Hotch, me and Prentiss found this."

Hotch turned back as Morgan reached over and picked up a spiral flip notebook from the coffee table.

"I don't know what it is. It's a list of dates. Garcia ran them and didn't find anything significant regarding Robin," Morgan explained.

Hotch flipped the book open and stared down at the numbers.

"She also googled and saved listings that were selling dogs."

"Okay. She has two dogs here," Prentiss said quickly.

"Two?" Hotch looked up from the notepad and glanced around the room. The German shepherd was no longer in the living room or kitchen. He assumed that it had moved on to the bedroom or bathroom.

"There's a puppy in the bedroom," Prentiss answered.

"Well anyway she searched for guard dogs. Big dogs. Mean dogs," Garcia continued. "She seemed to be interested particularly in the Rottweiler, Doberman, German shepherd, Rhodesian Ridgeback, and even the pit-bull."

"Well she settled on the German Shepherd," Prentiss murmured. "She got two."

"But Garcia, she didn't file any complaints with the police?" Hotch questioned.

"Nope."

"These dates start before the first woman was even kidnapped," Hotch murmured. "It starts January the twentieth and goes through the day before she was kidnapped. It looks like she wrote down a date from at least every week."

"So guys, are we looking at one kidnapper stalker case or more than one?" Prentiss asked hesitantly.

"Are we thinking that those were dates that the stalker or whoever might have contacted her?" Morgan asked.

"We need to question her coworkers and friends and family to determine if she mentioned anything to any of them. We also need to meet with the other victim's families," Hotch said.

"Hey Hotch, She didn't seem scared…of you…a stranger?" Prentiss questioned. "I mean if she thought someone was after her then she should have been leary of-"

"No," Hotch stared into her living room. "She let me help her pick up her papers. She seemed friendly. She…" He paused as he thought back to her and the paper she'd thrown away.

He thought back to when he was in the office. There were some teachers on their ways out.

"I think she was in the office when I was trying to pick up Jack. I think she walked out just a little before I did. She probably heard the principle and I speaking. She heard that I worked for the FBI and that would explain why she would have her guard down with me. She wasn't suspicious of me at all…That's all that I can figure," Hotch explained quickly.

"Yeah," Prentiss responded. "She probably did. She probably felt more safe."

Hotch looked back down at the numbers in his hands. "Yeah. I think I remember seeing her in there."

_She probably felt more safe_.

Prentiss's words echoed in his mind. He'd been no help. He'd been screwing up ever since Haley's death—no before it. He'd been screwing up before it. She'd left him after all and he hadn't been able to save her. He tightened his jaws. When he thought of her, he no longer thought of the happy times. The only picture that came into his mind was her bloody and limp body lying on the floor. Her purple flannel shirt was stained with blood and when he'd lifted her up off of the floor she was heavy with dead weight.

He eased himself down on the edge of the couch, notepad still in hand.

"Uh oh, Guys," Garcia's voice came from Morgan's phone, reminding Hotch that she was even on the line. "Robin made a splurge at the local hardware store buying a new door lock, a can of pepper spray, and some kind of folding knife."  
"I found the knife in her bedroom," Morgan said quickly. "Anybody seen the pepper spray?"

"It may be in evidence," Hotch reminded him.

"Whoa check this out," Emily called from the small hallway.

Hotch turned as she reentered the living room. She had a manila envelope in her hand.

"Take a look inside," she handed it over and Hotch strained to reach it without getting up from the couch.

Hotch quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the small stack of photos.

The first one was one of her walking the grown German shepherd. She wore a pair of black stretch pants and a hoodie. Her blonde hair was down and she wasn't looking directly at the camera.

Hotch quickly flipped to the next one.

"I'll get back to you Garcia," Morgan hung up his phone and moved closer to see.

The next one was another, nearly the same but her back was turned.

"Typical stalker photos," Morgan murmured.

"Hello?" Prentiss answered her phone and took a step away from the couch.

"Why wouldn't she go to the police if someone sent her this?" Hotch asked. He quickly flipped through the few remaining photos. She was at the dog park, walking down the street, and stopping in front of the apartment building. "The stalker is obviously showing her that he is in control, dog or no dog, he is watching her."

"Hotch."

Hotch raised his eyes Prentiss.

"JJ has something to say," she handed the phone over and Hotch took it quickly. He pressed the speaker phone button and held it out.

"What's up JJ?"

"Guys, Hannah Nichols was beaten badly, but the she was stabbed like the others. The weird part is that her dark black hair was bleached and dyed…blonde."  
"What?" Prentiss demanded.

"And when she left her house, she was not blonde. Her parents were a witness to that," JJ said.

"Well college girls can be wild sometimes maybe-"

"This was a botched job. It wasn't done by a professional," JJ interrupted Morgan.

"The unsub dyed her hair?" Morgan questioned.

"And she had large amounts of Aspirin in her system, but it didn't have time to take in effect," Reid added. "There was no sheet at the scene."

Hotch raised his eyes from the photos in time to see the German shepherd trot through the middle of Robin's spread out art supplies. A small German shepherd puppy followed behind it, nipping at its heels.

"Robin Cole was the only natural blonde victim," Prentiss murmured. "The others were dark haired."

It was all beginning to fit a little better together. Hotch could see it. Robin was being stalked. That was why she did seem preoccupied and slightly nervous. She'd heard he was FBI and wasn't scared of him.

"If only she'd said something," Hotch murmured. He shook his head.

Prentiss and Morgan turned to face him.

"It was all practice. The first four women were substitutes for Robin. She was the target to begin with. All of the other women were victims of opportunity," Hotch said quickly. He rose to his feet. "Robin was planned. She was being stalked."

"But the M.O?" Morgan began. "Does the unsub love her or hate her? With some kills, he covers the body with a sheet—remorse right? He overdosed one woman on Aspirin. But the other kills were more brutal."

"There has to be more than one unsub," Hotch muttered.

"Look at this," He quickly pulled the picture up on his phone and held it out for Prentiss and Morgan to see.

"She was throwing it away Friday evening. She must have recognized it as from whoever was stalking her," he quickly explained.

"But two stalkers working together?" Prentiss questioned. "Wouldn't that be a first? Most stalkers keep it all private."

* * *

Robin stared at the crack of light beneath the shut door to her room. She could see Brendon's shadow as he paced across the floor in the main room of the cabin. Her bladder was full and it was beginning to send stabbing pains in her abdomen. She was afraid to ask if she could go, afraid to be untied from the chair, and afraid that the other one—James would show back up.

She shivered in fear.

She'd had absolutely no idea that James or even Brendon could have possibly been capable of what they had done. She knew now that she would end up like the other girls—the ones that Brendon told her about and the one that she had seen for herself. Something that she didn't quite understand was going on between Brendon and James. Brendon called himself helping her, and she did feel that he had kept James from hurting her the nearly three days in all that she had already been locked inside the cabin. The other one, James, hated her with a fire so strong. She just didn't know why.

"Brendon," Robin called out. "I need to talk to you. Please?"

The pacing stopped and Robin held her breath.

After a moment or two, he opened the door.

"Can you answer some questions for me, Brendon? Please?"

Brendon avoided her eyes. The first time she'd met him she noticed that he did not always maintain eye contact. Now since he and James had taken her, he was much more nervous.

"Why is James doing this to all of these women? To me? He did hurt all of them right?" Robin questioned desperately. "The both of you had been following me?"

Brendon nervously scratched at his neck.

"I didn't know he would do it, "'he murmured.

"Do what, Brendon?"

"I didn't know he wanted to hurt them. I didn't know he wanted to torture them before he killed them. I…"

Robin swallowed hard.

She'd had no idea that Brendon was so unhinged—so troubled. But she'd had no idea that James was so torturous.

"He told me that if I helped him practice with them then when we brought you here nothing would go wrong."

"Brendon. It was you wasn't it?"

Brendon looked up at her. She knew she had really peaked his interest.

"You sent me all of those drawings, emails, and presents didn't you?"

Brendon didn't speak.

"Don't you think that I deserve to know?" Robin asked softly. "If you sent them I mean? You could have told me it was you all along."

"But you didn't send that other stuff did you?" her questions were becoming more desperate.

The sound of a vehicle door slamming caught both her and Brendon's attention.

"He sent that other stuff didn't he?" she asked desperately.

"James is back," Brendon turned and headed for the door.

Robin felt her stomach lurch. No, no, no, her mind screamed.

"Brendon!" she called out.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mr. and Mrs. Cole, I'm terribly sorry that this has happened," Hotch said as he took the seat across from Robin's parents in the police department's interrogation room. "I'm special agent Aaron Hotchner with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI," he laid Robin's file in front of him on the table but did not open it.

"You're…You're the man who saw our daughter right before…" Her mother's finger shook as she pointed and she lowered her hand back to her lap.

Hotch nodded ashamedly. Joe Cole reached across his wife, Meredith's lap to hold her hand. The two of them were physically exhausted. Meredith was in her late fifties while Joe was in his early sixties. They were becoming gray and Joe was balding slightly. They were slim, dressed in thrown on clothes. Hotch assumed that they jumped on the soonest plane that they could get. They looked like the usual, worried parents that he met with on a daily basis, but this time, it was different. He felt guilty. He'd felt obligated to speak to them himself. He had been the only one on the team to actually speak to Robin. But he'd also been the one who could've saved her. He had to tell them that.

"I did see her and I spoke to her for just a moment," he said softly. "Regrettably, I left the parking lot before she did."

"You didn't see anything?" Meredith Cole asked. Her voice cracked painfully.

Hotch shook his head slowly. "No, but I wish I had." He expected them to blame him just as he blamed himself. He was trained to notice things, but he hadn't picked up on Robin's problem soon enough to stop it.

"Well why were you talking to her there?" Joe Cole demanded.

"We bumped into each other. I was there to pick up my son from the elementary school and I helped Robin pick up her papers that she dropped," Hotch said simply. He clasped his hands in front of him on the table. "She was carrying a bunch of papers home to grade."

Hotch glanced back up to her parents. Joe was shaking his head slowly.

"Is it true? They found the body of the woman that was taken before Robin?" Meredith questioned.

"They did. I have to ask…Did she ever mention anything about someone bothering her. Do you know of anyone that-"

"Bothering her?" Joe interrupted.

"We think that she may have been stalked for a few months. But she didn't file any reports," Hotch said carefully. "We thought that it was strange."

"No, she called us every day and she never said anything about being bothered lately…by anybody," her father said softly. "How did you know-"

"Do you think it was the same man who abducted the other women?" Meredith interrupted her husband.

"We think that it may be-"

"Oh God, but they-" Her mother interrupted him and then reached up to wipe her eyes with a waded tissue. "She's been gone since Friday…It's too long."

Hotch fell silent at Meredith Cole's words.

"That's why I'm trying to find out as much about Robin as possible. We have to find her," Hotch explained softly.

Meredith shook her head. "I can't think of anything. I just keep thinking about her. What is she going through agent?"

Hotch opened his mouth to speak but he stopped himself. He had no idea. He only had the previous victims to go by and if Robin was the main target then the unsub may not even follow past rituals.

"We found some pictures of her walking her dog. Someone else took them and sent them to her," Hotch changed the subject.

"Her dog?" Joe muttered.

"Yeah she also recently got a German shepherd…and a puppy too but she was looking for a guard dog," Hotch tried not to look back at Meredith Cole. She was sobbing quietly into her Kleenex.

"She didn't tell us she got a dog," Meredith whispered.

"It's because of him," Joe snapped coldly.

"Who?" Hotch asked.

"She left Mississippi because of him," Robin's mother stammered. "She came here."

"Who is that? Who did she follow here?" Hotch questioned desperately.

"Shawn Stoover," Joe muttered. "Son of a bitch was no good for her. I never liked him. You question him about her!" he raised his voice slightly.

"Were they in a relationship?" Hotch furrowed his eyebrows. Neither Morgan nor JJ had found anything out about a boyfriend while questioning the staff that she worked with at the high school and Prentiss and Morgan hadn't found anything at her apartment that led them to believe she was in a relationship.

"Yeah. They met in back home in Mississippi. He was visiting some family. They met right after she finished up her last year at the community college. Couldn't keep em apart," Joe murmured. "He practically stole her away from us. He works here ya know?"

Hotch turned to look back at the mirrored wall, silently hoping that JJ would check up on Shawn Stoover.

"He's an officer?"

"Yeah. But she broke up with him," Meredith sniffled. "She broke up with him before Christmas and so she came back home to visit with us over the holidays. She seemed so happy. She-"

"Why did they break up?" Hotch questioned carefully.

"He drank…more than he should've," Joe said. "She said that it got outta hand. Said she wasn't dealin with it anymore."

"He was violent?" Hotch asked softly.

"She never said that he laid a hand on her, if that's what you're askin," Meredith murmured. "But she said that she didn't like going home to a drunk every night, and he didn't like that she spread her art materials out all over the apartment. He said he was always trippin over her stuff. He didn't really support her doing any of what she really wanted to do, and by God, Robin was going to do what she wanted to do. I just think that they weren't meant for each other."

"Thank you both," Hotch got up from his chair and scooped the file back up. "If you think of anything else that may help, just let us know. I'm…we're doing everything that we can to bring your daughter back." He met the eyes of her worried parents for only a moment before he turned and headed back towards the door.

"Agent… Hotchner,"

Hotch turned back. Meredith Cole was hurrying around the square table, trying to catch him before he left.

"Yes?" he said softly.

"Please bring her back," the woman reached out for his hand with both of hers. He allowed her to squeeze his hand gently.

Hers were small, cold, and shaky. She swallowed hard and then sniffled.

"Why would someone wanna hurt Robin? You met her. You talked to her. She's always friendly and nice and…She didn't have enemies. She's so talented and the best daughter that we could've imagined…I can't…"

Hotch met her red, swollen eyes and then looked down to his shoes.

"She didn't have to do anything, ma'am. It wasn't her fault. Your daughter was friendly and nice to me, as I'm sure she was with everyone. The people who commit these horrible crimes don't always have a reason that makes sense to us…Sometimes, it can be hair color… Other times just someone's gender makes them a target. I wish that I knew the answer."

"But Promise me that you will bring her back before something happens to her," Meredith whispered. "The FBI is supposed to be so…much more effective right?"

Hotch looked down at his hand, covered in both of hers. He knew that you didn't make promises that you couldn't keep. It only led to more guilt.

"I promise that I won't stop looking for your daughter," Hotch murmured. He locked eyes with her and Meredith nodded as she released his hand.

"Okay," she whispered softly.

* * *

Robin heard Brendon and James talking outside. Brendon must have left the door of the cabin open in his haste to get outside and meet James because she could hear their muffled voices. They sounded like they were arguing. She saw her own life flash before her eyes for the millionth time since the two had abducted her. She saw her parents in her mind, saw their sad faces, and imagined them getting the call when her body would be found. It was partially her fault. She felt stupid that she had not realized the gravity of the situation. Just tucking or throwing away the few things she received in the mail just seemed to make the problem go away. Robin hadn't realized just how serious the small gifts had been. She hoped that someone would find the items she had hidden away and find out the truth. She still wondered if anyone was even looking for her though. If no one had yet realized she was gone then the dogs would be starving. She sniffled at the thought.

"Oh Miss Cole?" James's voice boomed from outside.

* * *

"Macon," Hotch could hear the anger in his own voice as he hurried down the hallway and away from the interrogation room. JJ followed at his heels.

Macon turned away from the young officer he was speaking to and shrank back a little.

"What is it Hotch?"

"You didn't tell me that Robin Cole was dating Shawn Stoover, a member of your department," Hotch snapped hotly.

"Hotch," JJ started from behind him, but he ignored her.

"Robin's parents just told me that-" Hotch said angrily

"It doesn't even matter. He came to me and informed me but said that they broke up before Christmas," Macon interrupted him. "Shawn was worried about her just as her parents are. He was also worried that we would look to him so he let us question him. He didn't kidnap her or any of those girls."

"But you didn't think it was worth letting us know?" Hotch demanded.

"I thought it was a waste of time," Macon said.

"Find him and let me talk to him," Hotch ordered. "I…and my team will be the judge of that."

"I'm Shawn," a voice behind him caught Hotch's attention.

* * *

James walked into the bedroom smoothly. He wore a blue denim jacket over a pair of faded blue jeans. His short brown hair was spiked into its usual hairdo. Brendon on the other hand looked flustered and worried, his clothes far more wrinkled and dirty since he hadn't been able to leave her at the cabin alone to go home. It worried Robin that Brendon seemed worried. He didn't trust his own partner.

"Now it's just us," James said coldly. "No more distractions."

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, almost comically and stopped in front of her.

He reached out and grasped her chin, roughly tilting her face up, inspecting the bruises and busted lip that he had placed there.

"Isn't it pathetic?"

Robin swallowed hard.

"What?" she choked out.

"Brendon," he responded. "Isn't it pathetic that he's so obsessed with you?"

"But he doesn't wanna hurt me like you do," Robin murmured.

"Yeah know, I left Brendon with that last girl for a day and I came back and her hair was dyed blonde. He killed the first girl though, ya know?"

Robin blinked a few times.

"I guess that he wanted the other girl to look like you," James scoffed. "Weirdo."

Behind James, Brendon shifted his weight on the balls of his feet.

"Well what are you doing? What's your excuse for kidnapping me?" she asked shakily. "You're not obsessed with me?"

"I'm here to punish you. God, you bugged me the crap out of me. I had a hard time staring at you every day."

"Why didn't you just get your class changed then?" Robin gritted through her teeth.

James smiled. Robin knew that James's reputation among the high school girls was a player, but as a teacher she'd never though that James, the senior player would be a murderer. Beneath the stifling fear, she was angry.

"Did you even know the other women?" She murmured.

"No, but I got to know them. They were just as I thought—weak, stupid. They all put up this façade, but underneath they are all…the…same…just like you," he released her chin roughly.

* * *

"Shawn, Robin's phone records show that you called her a few times since the time you said she broke up with you," Hotch said as he eyed the officer.

Shawn was a thirty-year old, composed man. His brown hair was neatly styled, and he seemed to keep his composure well. According to him, he hadn't been around Robin since she'd broken up with him before Christmas and moved to her own apartment.

"She barely answered," Shawn responded solemnly.

"Where were you on Friday?"

"I was here…working. Ask Macon. Ask anybody they've already gotten the story down. Listen. I want to find her as bad as you do."

Hotch eyed him. "Why did she break up with you?"

"I wasn't ready for as big of a commitment as she wanted," Shawn murmured.

"The commitment to stop drinking?" Hotch questioned.

"Hey…you've been talking to her parents-"

"Why wouldn't she go to the police then if she was being stalked?" Hotch questioned. "That is the strangest part of this for me, and it has to just be a coincidence that you are the police right?"

Shawn shrugged.

Hotch could feel his patience wavering. Shawn was not helping or answering questions.

Hotch leapt up from his seat and slammed his fist down on the table.  
"She's running out of time, damnitt! If you're really innocent then don't you want us off of your case so we can help her? You know how this kind of stuff works."

"Okay man…" Shawn said quickly. "Just calm down…We had a fight before we broke up for the last time."

"Maybe I did get drunk sometimes, but I never touched her. I still helped her out with whatever she needed. It's not like I drank every night. I told her not to ask for my help anymore after she broke up with me." I figured that she would be comin back to me everytime she needed something since her family is all down in Mississippi."

"And you weren't willing to help her anymore?" Hotch questioned.

"She was wanting to prove that she could handle everything herself. You know like the only thing that I can figure is that she was being stubborn. I didn't know that she wouldn't call the police if she was really in trouble. I do feel guilty now. Really guilty now. I didn't want her to be kidnapped or…God I…wish she would've told me."

* * *

James placed his hand heavily on Robin's head. He roughly scraped his nails across her scalp and down to the back of her head where he grasped her blonde hair in his fist. He jerked her head backwards, exposing her neck and roughly propped one of his knees on her thighs to lean over her.

"Why are you doing this?" Robin gasped out. Her head rested on the back of the chair.

"I'm going to show you just how weak you are. I showed the others."

"Why?" she whispered.

She felt the sharp blade of his knife against her neck and she squinted her eyes shut. She held her breath, refusing to allow herself to scream. If that was what he wanted, then she wouldn't give him that.

"Wait!" Brendon yelled out, and Robin felt the knife blade leave her skin.

James let go of her hair, and stood back.

Robin slowly raised her eyes to the two of them.

Brendon was still standing back, not yet approaching his partner, but the look on his face was one of pure horror.

"Brendon, If you can't stay quiet, you need to go outside again," James gritted through his teeth.

James was becoming red faced. A few droplets of sweat had quickly formed on the eighteen-year old's forehead.

"Are you scared of me like Brendon is?" James questioned coldly.

Robin clenched her jaws tightly. She looked past him and met Brendon's eyes.

Without warning, James placed his foot between her legs, letting his boot rest on the wooden seat of her chair. With one rough push, he sent her chair falling backwards. The chair hit the hard floor and she felt the breath leave her body. James erupted into a fit of laughter.

She gasped, coughed, and sputtered, attempting to lift the pressure from her crushed hands, still tied behind her.

"What about now?" he cackled.

* * *

"You haven't had anything to eat… not even a break," JJ murmured.

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. He was leaning against one of the desks in the department. The rest of the team was seated around. The team had only taken a quick lunch break while he was going over the case. He didn't feel like they were running off too much more energy than he was.

"Hey, go get Jack and run through a drive thru or something on the way," Rossi suggested. "As much as I hate to say it, we don't have enough for that full profile yet. We'll call you if anything new comes up."

The police department's officers had already left the room after hearing the basics of their profile. Hotch was ashamed that they didn't have the full profile yet. It left him questioning everything, clutching at straws and ideas.

"What if it's a student?" Hotch said quickly. The thought had been gnawing at him a little at a time when he thought of the heart drawing that she'd tossed after work."

"A student?" Rossi questioned.

"Yeah. JJ and Morgan questioned her coworkers and they said that she didn't ever mention anything. They said she hardly ever talked about partying or dating. They said she worked at school and worked at home on her artwork. Shawn said the same about her. She received the drawing while she was at school on the same paper as the other drawings," Hotch said softly. "Same paper. It is a special grade of paper that the school buys in bulk for the art class."  
"Yeah," Reid clarified. "It has special grooves and ridges in it to soak up the medium being used. Not many places sell this particular type."

"You may be on to something there, I mean, young adults in high school could be the reason that it is all so…random," Rossi added. "We can get Garcia to check with the office-"

"And we can visit her classes," Hotch interrupted him. His new idea flourished in his mind giving him a new surge of energy. "It would have to be a higher grade student. They would have to have their own transportation, and fit into the other categories of the profile. Reid, Prentiss, and Morgan you three can come with me to the school and we can-"

"Hotch," Morgan interrupted. "The students get out in about an hour. There won't be much time today."

"Go pick up Jack, Hotch," JJ murmured. "You look like Hell. We can do that first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, the rest of us can get everything ready for that. We can get Garcia to run the backgrounds."

Hotch looked past JJ and stared hard at Robin's picture tacked on a bulletin board.

* * *

"Whoops," James kneeled down beside her. He reached down and brushed some blonde hair from her eyes.

Robin was breathing heavily. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

"Did that hurt?" he laughed slightly. "I know that you're trying to be tough…but I also know that you're not."

Robin tried to raise her head from the floor, but James pushed it back down with one hand.

"Some of you try to be strong, but some of you just beg. I didn't think that you would be the _strong_ type. I can probably change that."

"Why are you so angry?" Robin forced the words from her lips.

"Why are you such a whore?" He countered.

"You don't know me," Robin gritted through her own teeth.

* * *

Hotch picked his suit jacket up and folded it over his arm. He couldn't just leave for the day. The team felt like they were just looking out for him, as if they thought that he was still broken and damaged from Haley's death. Maybe he was, but that didn't mean that he couldn't do his job. Jack came first, they all knew that, but he had at least another hour before the Elementary School let out. Leaving Robin for the day would be like accepting defeat. He'd promised her mother that he wouldn't stop. To him, that meant not even for a short break. He would go get Jack, but that didn't mean he would stop working on the case."

He walked toward the chief's office, briefly glancing to make sure that no other members of the team were following.

He spotted the chief standing by another detective's desk, reading over some papers, so he stopped there.

"Macon."

"Yeah, Hotch? You check with Shawn's alibi?" The older man barely looked up from the paper in his hands.

"Yeah. It checked out," Hotch murmured. "Sorry. I-"

"No, I should've told you," Macon said quickly. "Even if I didn't think it mattered, y'all have a more impressive record than I do," he looked up and smiled.

"We need everyone working together for this case," Hotch murmured. He turned back to peek a glance at the rest of the team.

"I need the key to Robin Cole's apartment again," he watched the rest of his team go back into the room they'd been using as an office.

"Ya'll going back already?"

"Just me," Hotch answered.


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch let himself into Robin's apartment alone and was surprised to find that animal control hadn't taken the grown German shepherd or the puppy out of the apartment yet. He was met with the same chain of barks, but after a few calming words, the dog's rough demeanor diminished and he just had to slip in past two animals that only wanted his attention.

As the dog sniffed at his shoes and the puppy raised its two front feet to rest on his shins, Hotch ignored them and placed the apartment key in his pants pocket. He clicked on the kitchen light and paused to take in the emptiness of Robin's apartment. The dog whimpered and left his side. Hotch watched it stop beside two empty dog bowls. The puppy soon followed it. The shallow water bowl that Morgan and Prentiss had refilled earlier was already bone dry. The food was also gone.

The grown dog whimpered again—maybe because it missed its owner or maybe because it was thirsty. Either way, it struck a chord within him.

Hotch sighed and started across the kitchen. As he watched the two animals, a sadness settled inside him.

"It's okay buddy," He called softly. "I'll get you some water."

As he refilled the dog bowl, he found himself lost in his own memories. He had had a German shepherd when he was young—ten to be exact. And his name had been Lucky, just as he had told Garcia it was. One day when he'd been at school, Lucky had gotten run over in the street.

He hadn't gotten a dog since. Hotch took a moment to gently pat the grown dog on its head. It brought back memories—good memories. Jack wanted a dog, but Hotch hadn't given in yet. Maybe it was finally time to let Jack get one. Life was short, and he wanted Jack to be happy.

As the dogs lapped up their fresh water, Hotch slipped on a pair of blue rubber gloves and began gently pulling open Robin's kitchen drawers. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but Robin's kitchen wasn't cluttered. He only found a few blank checks, old grocery receipts, and a few bills inside of her drawers so he moved past the kitchen.

He walked back to the living room, leaving the two dogs in the kitchen, and stopped in front of the couch.

Prentiss had kind of straightened up Robin's stacks of school papers and now they sat on one couch cushion. As soon as the idea popped into his head, Hotch raked one of his hands in between the couch cushions. He was grasping at straws—he knew that, but there had to be more evidence somewhere.

"I should have just gone to the school," Hotch murmured beneath his breath.

He was afraid that waiting until the next morning may be too long. Robin had already been gone for three days.

Hotch flipped the cushion up next and stared down at a penny and a few nickels.

Disappointedly, he lowered the cushion back down and faced the artistic clutter of Robin's living room.

Now that he was alone, he realized that nearly all of the pictures hanging on the walls were her own work. Most were paintings on canvas. Her name was signed in the bottom right hand corner of each. On the few places and shelves that she had room to display picture frames, she had ones that held pictures of her and her parents. They were all smiling and happy—the complete opposite of what they had been when he'd stopped to talk to them in the interrogation room. His eyes scanned the shelf that held her TV and he moved closer to see the pictures. There were no pictures of her ex, Shawn- only the ones of her parents were displayed.

"No photo albums either," he murmured beneath his breath.

The bottom shelf had a few rows of books, but no photo albums.

Hotch brought his attention to the other, slightly crowded shelves and began sliding the objects and knick knacks around as he searched for any other sign that she was being stalked. She'd hidden the pictures that Prentiss had found. Maybe she'd hidden something else just out of sight.

Finally unsatisfied once again, Hotch stood back a little.

He couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that being alone in her empty apartment brought. He felt like an intruder.

When his eyes drifted to the bottom shelf, he eased himself to the floor, careful not to bump a thin legged table that held a vase of now dried flowers. Some of the dried petals had already fallen onto the floor and they crunched as he placed his hand on them.

He rubbed his rubber glove covered palms together as he read the bindings of her books.

There was _Pride and Prejudice_, _The picture of Dorian Gray_, _The Grapes of Wrath_, and other classics stacked there. There were a few recent book there too- mysteries.

From looking at her choice of classics, if he hadn't known she was an art teacher, he may have thought she was an English teacher.

He reached out for _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ but a shrill squeak made him jump. He raised his eyes just in time to see the puppy come bounding from the kitchen, some type of small, stuffed toy in its mouth. It squeaked when it bit down and Hotch forced his eyes back to the shelf before him—making himself calm down.

Robin had a lot of paperback books. Hotch reached out to shove a few out of the way. He reached out and pulled out one of the thicker mystery paperback ones. Before he and Haley had separated, he'd discovered that her hiding place had been inside books. He'd found an out of town lawyer's name and information there before he even knew that she was considering divorce.

Immediately, Hotch knew that something large was closed inside of the book, and he felt his heart leap in his chest.

"Bingo," he murmured aloud. Maybe more women hid things in books than he thought. He pushed the thoughts of Haley from his mind and opened the book.

There was a small white envelope inside.

Hotch quickly pulled a stack of photos out of it.

He flipped through photos of her and her ex, Shawn, quickly. They were really of no value to him. It only proved that the breakup had been particularly nasty for her to hide all of the photos away. He still didn't think that Shawn had anything to do with Robin's disappearance. Maybe Shawn had been the reason that she didn't go to the police, but Shawn didn't orchestrate her kidnapping. It could have just been a pride thing. She didn't want to seem weak so she didn't ask for help.

He studied Robin's happy, smiling face in the pictures where she stood beside Shawn at different occasions. She was attractive—seemed to light up the picture with her smile. In some pictures she was dressed up and in some she was more casual, but in nearly every picture she wore the dimples that he'd seen when she'd smiled at him in the parking lot.

Forcing himself to get back to searching, he replaced the pictures and slid the book back into its spot. He pulled the next book out and a larger, white envelope fell into his lap. His excitement rose. Was he really going to find what he was looking for tucked inside of one of her books? Before he could react, the puppy pounced into his lap and snatched the envelope.

"Hey wait, wait, wait," Hotch leapt to his feet and hurried after the little plump shepherd puppy, following it out of the living room, into the small hallway, and then into Robin's bedroom. The grown dog, hearing the commotion, leapt from the couch and hurried after the both of them.

This is why I never got another, he thought angrily as he stepped into Robin's bedroom.

Puppies were too much work. They had too much energy.

Hotch stopped to look around as the puppy slipped into the slightly ajar closet door. He hadn't been in her room earlier. He trusted that Prentiss and Morgan had searched it efficiently.

He hadn't really wanted to see her room—her most personal space. But now he was.

Robin had more of her own original work propped against the walls on the floor and hanging on the walls.

Her bed was unmade and the comforter was hanging halfway onto the bed. The sheet was waded slightly. She had a few outfits laid out on the bed—shirts and pants, even a dress. But they were wrinkled and Hotch assumed that the dogs had been on them in her absence. He forced his eyes to skip over and not linger over a black bra and pair of panties on the bed as well.

Once again, he felt like an intruder—seeing her most personal space.

The puppy settled down on the floor of her closet and Hotch headed towards it.

He stopped to look at a painting leaning on the top of her dresser. It was of the German shepherd dog. He recognized the couch from her living room.

The sound of ripping paper brought his attention back to the puppy and he dropped to his knees in front of the closet door.

Above him, her long shirts, jeans and dresses brushed against the top of his head.

"Give me that," he pulled the envelope out of the puppy's mouth but stopped. Something shiny caught his eye from the far corner of the closet. It was partially hidden behind a few shoe boxes. He reached out passed her shoes and boots, and the puppy immediately leapt for it, but Hotch snagged the puppy with one hand and scooped him away just in time. It yelped in surprise. He put the puppy back on the ground in one fluid motion, and jerked up the piece of golden blur and realized that it was a heart necklace—a locket to be exact.

The puppy climbed back into his lap, but he didn't even seem to notice. He was transfixed on the necklace—the very necklace that he had seen the drawing of.

Hotch's mouth suddenly felt dry.

He pulled his phone out and pulled the picture up with excited, shaking hands.

The drawing had been a locket. The drawing in evidence that she had thrown away was an exact drawing of the locket. She recognized it and must have tossed it in panic, but who gave it to her?

Hotch's fingers shook as he opened the envelope he'd found first. Inside there was a ticket to an art show. The date had already passed and she hadn't gone. There was a small note inside.

_Please Go. My Treat._

Hotch redialed the most recent number on his phone and dumped the puppy from his lap as he got up. He reached for the closet door frame as he held the phone to his ear.

"Hotch?"

"JJ," he paused to take a breath. He gulped it in.

"Hotch? Are you okay?"

"I found the heart necklace."  
"Wha-"

"At her apartment."

"Her apartment?"

"Yeah," he began pacing her floor. The puppy followed him. "I came here before I went to go get Jack. I found the locket. I bet that it came from her stalker. And I think that she got it at the school. I think that her stalker is a student. It would make sense as to why a drawing of it would show up in her papers."

"We'll be right there," JJ said quickly.

Hotch hung up his phone and returned his focus back to the golden locket in his gloved hand. The chain slipped through the space between his fingers.

A strange sensation traveled through his hand and up his arm. It was like excitement, but also regret that it hadn't been found sooner. Maybe they were a step closer—maybe they weren't.

The puppy beneath his feet yapped and Hotch glanced down to it in a kind of disbelief. It had been as simple as luck.

"Thanks buddy," he murmured. "Guess it's my turn again now."


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you for the reviews. I promise that Robin and Hotch will eventually meet face to face again._

Robin let out a harsh gasp and sputtered when James's boot covered foot connected with her side. He had untied her from the chair, but left her lying on the floor. Her hands were still tied behind her back and her ankles were still tied tight together.

"What about now? Are you scared yet?" He demanded.

She squinted her eyes shut tightly and brought her knees up in the hopes of shielding her stomach.

So this was what it was like to be tortured.

She struggled to maintain her composure. She didn't want to give in, but she was weakening as anyone would.

"I can do anything that I want to you," James murmured.

Robin sucked in a deep breath and felt the pain in her ribs. She coughed.

"You know, my boyfriend is a cop," Robin gasped out. She was shocked at the sound of her own weak voice.

"What?" James laughed. "I haven't seen you with a guy since we started watching you. You walk the dog alone, you shop alone. Where is he?"

Robin gritted her teeth. She and Shawn had broken up right before all of the notes and presents had started coming to her.

"Are you a liar too?"

Robin shook her head. James kneeled to his knees beside her. He reached out to brush her blonde hair from her face, but Robin tensed and flinched away from him.

"You are scared," He whispered. "Because you know I'm in control."

"What do you want?" she choked out.

"You're already giving it to me," James reached back out and touched her split lip with his fingertips.

Robin winced.

She glanced to where Brendon was standing. He'd stood frozen the entire time, just watching. When he'd first tried to intervene, James had threatened him. Now he just stood motionless as he watched James take his time breaking her down physically.

She moistened her lip when James removed his fingers and she tasted blood on her tongue. The wound that James had given her when they'd first abducted her was open again. It stung.

"Brendon, you can go home now…for the night," James suggested. "You have to get to class tomorrow. I may go too."

Robin's breath caught in her throat. Did that mean he was going to kill her tonight?

"No, you promised!" Brendon said quickly. "This isn't how you said it would be!"

"You've had her for pretty much three full days, Brendon," James raised his voice. "I spent extra time with the last one so you could have her," he motioned to Robin.

Robin watched the two of them with wide eyes.

"I did you a favor Brendon. I helped you snatch her up. Without me you'd still be sitting in her class just daydreaming about her. She's right in front of you bro. You're acting like a twelve year old," James snapped.

"But she's not special to you. She's just like every one of those others to you," Brendon erupted.

"This is getting ridiculous Brendon. You can't live out your little fantasy. She would kill you if you gave her the chance. She only wants to survive. She wants to get the hell outta here and if you gave her the chance she'd go to the police. Get you arrested," James raised his voice.

"No," Robin choked out. "No I wouldn't Brendon. You haven't hurt me." She felt her panic rising in her throat.

"I tried not to hurt the first woman," Brendon blurted out. "I didn't wanna do all this."

Robin stared at the boy that before Friday, had only been a shy school boy to her. He was the quiet, studious kid in her class that she ignored. He faded into the background. Never would she have thought that he would team up with the class rebel to kidnap and torture her.

"I gave her medicine so she'd go to sleep. I tried to do it to the last woman too—so James wouldn't hurt her," Brendon continued.

"I knew that you couldn't handle it," James spat. "You're too soft."

Robin saw her only opportunity. She had to get Brendon on her side.

"Stop yelling at him James!" she snapped.

James's boot connected with her shins and she cried out. The pain radiated up her legs, mixing with the pain already in her stomach and sides.

"Look. Show her who's boss. Show her that you're not a softy. You have to gain control of your life or everyone else will walk all over you," James began speaking calmer to Brendon.

"Go ahead. Show her how much of a man you really are. Prove it to her," James's lips curled into a smile. "She doesn't love you like you love her."

Brendon looked back to James.

There was such a difference between the two of them—personality wise and physically. Brendon still looked young. His face was smooth. His eyes were an intense blue. But now, Robin knew that there was so much more going on inside his young mind.

James was rough all around. He was naturally intimidating, and now he seemed to have gained control of his weaker partner.

"Dude. She isn't worth it. All this trouble. I did this to teach you that. You and me together, we're unstoppable," James continued.

Robin felt tears forming in her eyes and this time, she couldn't hold them back. James was conditioning Brendon to be a killer—conditioning him to kill _her_.

"Think about it this way, Brendon. You always let everyone walk all over you. You let your step sister walk all over you, you let your new step mom walk all over you. Use her to get up your nerve. It'll change you for the better. You'll grow stronger. Look. Think about it this way. You want her. I know you do. See the problem is that she doesn't want you."

Brendon clenched one of his fists at James's words.

"Go ahead, Brendon. Have a little fun with her," James moistened his bottom lip with his tongue. "You can _make_ her love you."

"Stop it, James," Robin choked out. "Stop confusing him. Stop trying to talk him into…" She trailed off, appalled at the ideas that he was placing in the unstable boy's mind.

"Don't you see I did this for you, Brendon. All of this is for you. I want you to be strong. Don't you want to be strong like me?"

Brendon nodded and Robin felt her heart sink in her chest.

James kneeled back beside her and reached for her tied wrists to roll her over on her stomach. She protested, but eventually let him roll her over. The pain in her sore body clouded her mind.

"Please," She choked out. "Please Brendon just-"

She closed her eyes and tried to pray. She didn't do it on a regular basis. Maybe that was why she was having trouble forming the words in her mind.

"See, She's begging for you Brendon," James murmured.

"No," Robin felt James grab hold of her plain white shirt. When she heard the sound of fabric ripping, she realized that he was cutting it with his knife.

He rolled her back over onto her back and cut it off of her without having to untie her hands.

A chill rippled across her bare stomach as he tossed the waded shirt to the floor. James climbed back to his feet and stood back.

Clad in only her white bra and black jeans, she squinted her eyes shut.

"She's kinda small, but…Damnnnn huh? Never thought you'd see her like that did ya?" James asked. "Go ahead buddy."

"Alone…Can i?" Brendon stuttered a little.

Robin opened her eyes.

"You wanna have time alone with her? I guess I could….You know what, I'm going to take a smoke," James patted Brendon's shoulder roughly. "Have fun. I knew that you could. Don't let me down. Watch her good. You can't trust her. She'll try to hurt you. Just don't kill her….yet."

Robin helplessly watched James turn and leave the room. There seemed to be a sudden pep in his step. He practically skipped away.

Robin forced herself in a sitting position. She didn't trust Brendon like this. His eyes were different.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" Robin asked softly. "Please, I haven't been able to go."

It was true, she needed to go, but she also just needed a chance to get away.

Brendon sat down on the bed. He looked more conflicted than he had been.

"You don't have to do this-"

"Shut up!"

Robin sank back. She felt even more vulnerable without her shirt—even if it was just a thin piece of cloth. Brendon had never raised his voice at her.

She watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a small pocket knife. Silently, he got up and kneeled beside her.

Robin allowed him to reach behind her and grasp the rough rope that held her hands together. He cut it and she fought the urge to fight him. She waited as he pulled away and stared at her.

"You can go to the bathroom," he murmured. His voice was thicker, more conflicted.

He cut the rope from her ankles next, and Robin slowly climbed to her feet.

"Where's the bathroom?" she tried to sound calm—tried not to give her plans of escape away.

Brendon reached out and grabbed her wrist.

She gasped, but calmed her breathing.

"Come with me."

Robin allowed Brendon to lead her out of the bedroom and to the next door on the right. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, or what his plans were.  
"Don't try anything," he murmured.

Robin nodded. She walked in slowly.

"You have two minutes."

She gently closed the door and whirled back around to face the opposite wall. The window was fairly small, but right above the toilet. Her eyes scanned the counter. She knew that she needed a weapon just in case so she carefully opened the cabinet beneath the sink. When it creaked, she froze. She peered inside of the opened crack and then closed it back gently. There was only a few cleaning supplies and extra rolls of toilet paper inside—nothing she could use.

Robin knew that she had no time to waste. If she wanted to get away, she may only have this chance.

She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and a chill traveled through her body. Her bare stomach was bruised and red with welps. Her lip was split and her face was splotchy.

Robin forced her eyes away and reached over to turn on the hot and cold water. The sound gave her a feeling of security.

She quickly moved back to the window.

With both hands, she raised the latches, and then she clambered on top of the toilet seat, careful not to let her feet slip into the bowl.

Her chest tightened with fear at the bold acclamation she was making. If James caught her, he could kill her. But he could kill her anyway. He probably was. He would have probably talked Brendon into doing it after they tortured or raped her—whatever they had planned.

Robin forced herself to move again. It wasn't fair. She'd done nothing to them.

She threw one leg out and straddled the opened window sill. Next, she eased her head out. Holding on to both sides of the window for support, she threw her other leg over the window sill and leapt out feet first. She ended up stumbling on her hands and knees in the slick, wet pine straw. She looked around, eyeing the woods around her.

The smells of earth, fresh rain, and freedom infiltrated her nose, giving her an adrenaline rush. But she only saw the woods around her. They were darkening with the lowering sun.

Robin ignored the stabbing pains in her ribs and clambered back to her feet. The air outside was cooler than the air inside the cabin and she felt chill bumps form on her bare skin again. She pressed her body against the rough wood of the cabin wall and slowly inched herself to the corner.

A waft of smoke from James's cigarette drifted to her and she stopped again. He was probably standing on the porch. Robin's shaky hands gripped the wood of the cabin for support.

They were far in the woods. Robin was positive that that wouldn't work in her favor. She didn't have the strength to out run them through unfamiliar territory.

She clutched her side as her mind whirred and her heart thudded in her chest.

What was she supposed to do? How did anyone ever survive things like this? Why hadn't she told Shawn that weird things were happening? Sure they were broken up but…ugh, she shook the thoughts away. It seemed that she'd had plenty of times to get help and stop this from happening, but she'd been too stupid to realize the gravity of it all.

God had even sent her an FBI agent moments before it happened. If that wasn't a last chance gift from God that she didn't take, then she didn't know what it was. The irony was too much.

"Uh…..Miss Col- uh Robin?"

She turned to look back at the window. It was Brendon. His knock on the bathroom door echoed outside of the opened bathroom window.

The front door slammed and Robin nearly darted into the woods. She couldn't stand still any longer. She knew she was wasting time.

"What the hell did you do?" James's voice boom from inside the cabin and Robin ran. As soon as the idea popped into her head, she went for it.

Skidding across the wet pine straw, she forced herself to make it around the front and to their car.

Her own heavy breathing and thudding heartbeat drowned out the arguing of her two captors inside the cabin.

She yanked open the door to their older white Toyota just as James and Brendon came barreling from the cabin.

"Stop right there!" James roared.

A scream of panic erupted from Robin's throat.  
"Help! Help!" she screamed out, knowing it was probably useless. "Please help me!"

Robin threw herself inside and slammed the door. She locked her door, the door behind her, and the two on the passenger side quicker than she thought possible. James slammed his hands on the window of her door as soon as she turned her attention to the ignition.

She let out a cry when she realized that the keys were not inside.

"Looking for these?"

He dangled the keys against the window and Robin clambered over the middle console, trying to get away from him.

She was trapped.

Brendon hurried to the passenger window. He placed his hands on the glass.

"Help me!" Robin gasped out.

"You tried to run away!" he choked out.

"Brendon. Please make him stop," she pleaded.

She locked eyes with him, but then she saw James approaching that side. He had a large rock in his hands.

The only thing that Robin had time to do was duck and shield her face as the window glass shattered in on her.

James dove through the open window, reaching for her with both hands, and Robin threw herself back to the driver's side seat. The small shards of glass poked her bare stomach and clung to her hair. She fought his fumbling hands while she tried to unlock the driver's door to escape. When he finally latched on to her right arm, she turned and bit down so hard on his arm that it hurt her teeth. He released her as he cried out and cursed, but then she felt him latch on to her hair.

"No!" She tried to pull away, but his brute strength was too much.

As she struggled to find something to hang on to inside of the car, he pulled her up against the passenger door and then she felt herself being pulled right out of the window—headfirst.

The excruciating pain made her stop fighting. Her next worry was catching herself as she felt herself falling, flailing as she hit the hard ground outside of the car. Her body barely landed before he began dragging her back to the cabin.

She gasped to fill her lungs with air, but it was useless. The fall had knocked the breath right from her lungs.

Desperately, she dug her hands into the ground. Instinctually, her legs propelled her as he pulled her. Sharp sticks and rocks tore at her bare back.

"Stupid bitch," James roared as he dragged her up the steps of the wooden porch.

"What the hell were you thinking, Brendon?" he gritted through his teeth.

James let go of her hair once inside the cabin, but he landed atop her, pinning her arms and legs with his own.

"Get off me," she choked out.

"You still think you're something," he growled. He released her hands, but wrapped both of his hands around her neck.

Panic seized her body. She wiggled beneath him with the small amount of strength she had left. She latched onto his wrists with both of her hands.

And then she saw Brendon. He raised the large rock high above James's head.

* * *

By the time that the rest of the team joined him at Robin's apartment, it was nearly time for Hotch to go get Jack. He explained to them about the locket and they looked through the remainder of books together, but they didn't find any more evidence.

"Okay. Maybe our unsub is her student, but maybe he's not. Maybe the gifts were dropped off at her school," Rossi murmured.

Hotch chewed at his bottom lip.

"We have to get to the school and interview the office and staff and students," he finally muttered.

"Which will have to wait until tomorrow," JJ murmured sadly. "Unless Garcia can come up with something looking through the School's files and computer system. They gave her full access. Garcia what have you got?" JJ raised the phone she'd been holding in her hand since calling Garcia.

"Okay. Robin has four classes of high schoolers. The classes aren't bigger than twenty-five in each. Some classes have less. The office has already closed for the day, but if we go first thing tomorrow we can get what I can't get from here. Do you really think that it's a student of hers? God that's creepy."

"What about the attendance records?" Hotch asked.

"You want kids who were absent from her class today? Uh…twelve in all."

"Weed out the girls," Hotch ordered.

"Uh….eight," Garcia answered. "What am I looking for, Hotch?"

Hotch felt all eyes on him.

"I don't think there is anything to weed out until we go to the school and question office workers and see if perhaps someone sent those gifts to the school," Prentiss added.

"I think so too," Rossi murmured.

"JJ make sure that all news stations are still running with Robin's story and showing her picture," Hotch finally ordered.  
"Of course. Go get Jack. We'll start fresh on this first thing when the school opens," JJ answered him.

Hotch sighed. There it was again—that hopeless drowning feeling—the feeling of taking half a step forward and then three back.

"What the hell is this?" Morgan's voice caught his attention.

"Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable," Reid murmured as he admired one of Robin's paintings on the wall between he and Morgan.

"What?" Morgan blurted out.

Hotch turned to look at the painting.

"It's a quote, by Cesar Cruz. He was a poet," Reid answered.

"I'm a little disturbed," Morgan countered.

"Comfort the disturbed," Hotch murmured beneath his breath.

"Garcia," Hotch erupted quickly. "Is Garcia still?"

"Yes sir I'm still here," Her voice echoed from JJ's phone.

"Check those students for mental health records too. The ones that were absent. They'll be our first suspects."


	8. Chapter 8

_I've strayed a little from the CM timeline. I couldn't remember when Emily was nearly killed and all, but for this story's sake, I'm pretending that it happened not long after Hotch's wife was killed. Sorry for the wait. Please Review._

Hotch reached up to tilt his rearview mirror down, placing Jack in his line of sight.  
"Why so glum buddy?" he questioned as he looked back to the road. "Bad day at school?"

"No," Jack answered simply.

Hotch turned down the radio so that he could hear his son from the back seat.

"I thought that Aunt Jessica would pick me up today."

"Did you want her to pick you up? Hotch asked. He glanced back to Jack's reflection in his mirror.

"No. I like it when you pick me up," Jack smiled and Hotch smiled too.

"Good. We're working in town for a case so I was already here."

Silence settled inside the car again and Hotch saw Jack's smile fade and his glum look reemerge.

Those times of silence made Hotch wonder just how much Jack remembered of Haley's death. He wondered if Jack was maybe reliving that day—reliving hiding in the trunk until he'd been whisked out of the bloody house in JJ's arms so that he wouldn't have a chance to see his mother's body.

"Who's in trouble?" Jack asked innocently.

Hotch's mind went blank. "Uh…wha—oh you mean the case we're working on? A lady."

"Did you help her?"

"I'm workin on it, Bud. The whole team is," Hotch answered.

Jack always had the utmost amount of faith in him. The faith of a child was an amazing thing. If only Hotch himself had the same amount of faith. He was afraid that Robin's case would become a cold one or that her body would be found. Every time his phone rang, that was his worst fear.

The lack of evidence was the most surprising thing for him, and if no more was uncovered at the school or if no eye witnesses came forward, then he wasn't sure what would be next.

Strauss would probably give them the order to move on to another case. She would say that there were more cases that deserved their attention—more cases with people actually alive.

Hotch looked back at his son's glum face.

"What do you want for dessert after dinner today bud? Your choice," Hotch piped up.

"Ice cream," Jack answered.

"Chocolate or-"

"Chocolate," Jack cut in.

"Good. That's what I wanted too," Hotch answered with a forced smile.

* * *

After eating dinner, Hotch stirred his spoon in his chocolate ice cream, turning it into a runny mess as he sat beside Jack at their small kitchen table. The beginning music from the local news channel echoed from the small living room and Hotch plunked his spoon down in his bowl.

"Our top story tonight is about the high school art teacher Robin Cole who disappeared from the school's parking lot on Friday after school. We'll have more after the break-"  
"I'll be right back," Hotch said softly. He left the table and entered the living room, leaving Jack sitting at the table finishing his own ice cream. He grabbed the remote off the couch and turned down the volume, but then he sat on the edge of the couch to catch what they did say after the break.

He rested his elbow on his knee and rubbed his face tiredly. Usually, he made himself stay away from the news, but Robin's case was too fresh on his mind. He actually wanted to know what the media was saying. When the commercial break ended, he devoted his upmost attention to what they were saying.

"Now Anne is at the scene of the abduction from Friday evening. Good Evening Anne."

"Hello Brad. Now this school parking lot doesn't seem like the place that a high school teacher would be targeted, but the very thing happened. Our sources have told us that the FBI are working on the case and they ask if anyone has any information to contact them. Law Enforcement detectives have not released any information and have not said that they have any suspects at the moment. But they have ruled it as an abduction. Teachers have planned a candle light ceremony for tomorrow night where they say anyone is welcome to stop and pray for the art teacher's safe return…"

Hotch stared at the picture of Robin that the news crew showed on the screen. The words that the news crew were speaking, droned on but he stopped listening. It wasn't the same picture that was on her school ID. It looked like her parents supplied this particular picture. It had been cropped to get rid of the people she had been posing with. She was smiling, wearing a red shirt with her arms around the cropped out people. It looked recent. Perhaps it was from the last Christmas that she had spent with her parents—the happy holiday that her parents had spoken of in the interrogation room.

Hoth had the sudden urge to call JJ to see if anything else had surfaced after he'd left to get Jack, but decided against it. Of course they would have called.

Slowly, he changed the channel and reentered the kitchen.

"Some teachers at school were talking about her," Jack said after a bite of ice cream. "That's the lady right?"

"Yeah. She taught at the high school. She was the art teacher," Hotch said. He didn't go into detail with his son. That wasn't something that he wanted to talk with Jack about.

* * *

"Brendon," Robin gasped as James collapsed atop her. She struggled out from underneath the dead weight of her unconscious or possibly dead captor. She'd been surprised that James had gone down with Brendon's first hit.

Robin scooted away from James's body and climbed to her feet as she forced air back into her lungs. She coughed and gasped aloud, forcing her eyes away from his body.

Brendon tossed the large rock to the floor and the thud seemed to shake the entire cabin.

"Thank…Thank you," she reached up to feel her neck where James's hands had been tightly wrapped.

Brendon looked almost dazed. He stared down at James's body, unmoving and not talking.

Robin looked to the opened doorway and then back to Brendon unsurely. Her freedom was right out of the doorway, but something held her back. Maybe it was Brendon's unsettling look. She still had to make sure he was on her side right? Otherwise he could catch her before she could get away.

"Let's go, Brendon," she tried carefully. "We can leave together."

"Let's go-" Robin fell silent as Brendon pulled a pistol from the waistband of his jeans and beneath his shirt.

Her mouth dropped open as he pointed at her.

"Bre- What are you. Where did you get…"

"Shut up and come with me," Brendon ordered.

"No…Please," Frozen, Robin stared back at him. He was breathing heavily. He'd finally gained control over the situation and he knew it. He'd finally gotten the nerve to stand up to James. Who knew what he would have the nerve to do to her.

"Where are we going?" Robin asked softly. She raised her hands in surrender, suddenly feeling vulnerable again without her shirt.

"We have to get away from here. Is he dead?" Brendon asked blankly.

"I…I don't know," Robin murmured. She looked back to James, lying face first on the cabin floor.

"Check."

Robin stopped as she stared back at Brendon. Where had he gotten the gun?

"I don't want to have to hurt you," Brendon murmured.

Robin swallowed hard and kneeled beside James. In her head she knew James wasn't dangerous anymore, but she couldn't tell her trembling hands that.

Slowly, she reached for his neck, checking somewhere, anywhere for his pulse point.

"I don't know where to look-" she choked out. "But I…I don't feel anything."

She looked back to Brendon and he motioned to the door with the gun.

"Have you had that gun the whole time?" Robin whispered. She moved away from James's body as if it was diseased, and she felt pain radiating through her body from every injury she'd already obtained.

"I was afraid that I would have to stop James," Brendon answered her. "I took it from my dad's office and hid it here."

"Well thank you for…stopping him," Robin slowly rose back to her feet. "I was afraid that he was going to kill me." She chose her words carefully as she reached up to rub her neck again. "What will we do now?"

"James was right. You would go to the police," Brendon said.

"Whoa, Brendon. I ran because I knew that James was gonna hurt me," Robin lied. "You have to understand that right? I mean he hurt all those women. He used you. He made you do it. I wasn't running from you-"

"Outside now," Brendon spat out angrily.

Robin swallowed hard. "Where are we gonna go Brendon?"

"We have to leave here or the police will find out I killed him and…" Brendon trailed off. "They'll find my finger prints on the rock and…wipe it off for me."

Robin did not move to do so.

She sensed the same nervous urgency in his voice that he'd had before his surge of courage against James.

"I don't wanna go to the police. I wanna go with you," Robin forced the lie from her lips. "You saved me."

Robin knew that he was vulnerable. He was easily influenced—James had known that.

"Turn around. I have to tape you up until I figure something out," Brendon responded.

Robin faltered. She looked to the opened doorway again and then back to a roll of duct tape sitting on the counter.

"Don't run. I'll shoot you. I don't want too, but this is all James's fault."

Robin swallowed the lump in her throat but didn't turn her back to him. She didn't follow his instructions.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

* * *

The doorbell rang before Hotch could make it back to his seat. He checked the peephole before opening it.

"Morgan?" Hotch questioned as he opened the door.

"I hope you don't mind i-"

Anything new?" He motioned for Morgan to come in as he turned to go for his cell phone. "I haven't checked my phone-"

"No. I was just on my way home and I felt like I needed to stop by," Morgan said.

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows. He studied Morgan's demeanor for any sign of bad news but couldn't detect any.

Morgan stepped in and walked over to high five Jack.

"Hey big man," Morgan placed his palm over the top of Jack's head playfully. "How's school treatin ya?"

"Good," Jack answered.

"Looks like I came just in time for some ice cream," Morgan continued.

Hotch turned his attention back to Jack.

"Hey, Jack. If you promise not to get ice cream on the couch, you can go watch tv while you finish."

"Promise," Jack climbed from his seat and left with his bowl.

Morgan smiled at Jack before moving towards the table and taking Jack's empty seat.

Hotch picked up his bowl of half eaten, melted ice cream and placed it by the sink.

"He's quiet," Morgan murmured softly. "But I see where he gets it from." Morgan leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together on the tabletop.

"Yeah it can get pretty quiet around here," Hotch glanced around the room.

During times like that he always thought of the emptiness that Haley had left behind. He knew Morgan was too. The rooms were drab and boring. Haley would have added a flare of color.

"I been thinking, Hotch…Do you remember what you told me after what happened to Emily?" Morgan asked.

Hotch raised his eyes but did not speak. Like a flashback, he could see Morgan upset and unwilling to forgive himself during the time he thought Emily was dead.

"You said that just because I was the first one to get there didn't mean I could've changed anything. It wasn't my fault."

"I remember," Hotch murmured. He cleared his throat.

"This case has hit you pretty hard. And you've been through a lot. I…I mean I don't know how well you know this woman, but-"

"I…didn't," Hotch interrupted him. "Really I probably didn't say five words to her."

"Well believe me…I know the difference that a few minutes can make and I know what guilt feels like-" Morgan started.

Hotch's phone vibrated on the tabletop and he reached over and picked it up quickly. He was a little thankful for the interruption. He knew that Morgan only meant to help. He thought he was giving him a pep talk.

"JJ," he said aloud before he answered.

"Hey what's up?" he clicked it on speakerphone, feeling his heart leap in his chest at her tone when she answered.

"Hotch, 911 received a noise complaint about an hour ago. Someone heard a gunshot and a woman screaming at a small little camp of cabins. The cabins aren't close to each other and the place is mostly rural."

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows. "JJ our unsub doesn't use a gun." His excitement fell and he met Morgan's eyes from across the table.

"Hotch. As of an hour ago our unsub hadn't used a gun _yet_. But when officers went there they found some evidence that we may wanna check out. They think it's the same unsub. It's in the geo zone," JJ responded.

* * *

Police lights flashed and illuminated the dark night as Hotch stood in front of the cabin. He felt numb as he watched the chaos around him.

Forensic experts darted to and fro as they collected the little amounts of evidence inside and outside of the cabin. He solemnly watched one tech carry out Robin's bloodied and torn white shirt in a plastic bag. He'd seen it when it was still lying waded on the cabin floor.

Another tech was crouched a few feet away, collecting glass from the gravel, and another was collecting a blood sample from a small amount in the grass.

"Here's the bullet casing," a tech called out. "9mm."

"This is where the murders took place." Reid murmured solemnly. He stepped up to Hotch and turned to face the cabin, crossing his arms across his chest as he did. "The unsub had privacy for the most part. It's just luck that someone happened to hear…. Robin's screams if no one had heard all of the other women. Since it's not hunting season, I guess there weren't many people camping or renting the cabins out here…"

Hotch diverted his attention to the porch, unconsciously ignoring the rest of Reid's thoughts. Two officers with German shepherds on leashes followed the dogs who led them with noses to the ground.

Robin's ex, Shawn, stood on the porch, still dressed in his uniform like the other officers. His hand was clamped over his mouth in shock as a tech carried out the large rock that had been found on the cabin floor around a small pool of blood.

The man was just about to step off of the porch when someone called him back.

Shawn shook his head as one of his fellow officers carried something square out of the cabin. Hotch knew what it was. He'd seen it hanging on the wall in the room where he assumed Robin had been held.

"Is this the canvas you saw her with?" In a moment, the officer, holding the painting with his gloved hands was right at Hotch's side.

Hotch nodded. "Yeah. That's it. She had it with her."

"We got a lot of hair and blood, but no bodies. Looks like a struggle ensued. Dogs haven't picked up a trail farther than the driveway and glass yet," Macon announced. "I'd say he left with her in the car."

"Unsub could be on his way to dump….," Rossi started but did not finish his sentence.

Hotch felt suddenly sick to his stomach. Would it take the death of yet another woman to finally catch this unsub?

"Hey Hotch,"

Hotch turned to face Morgan and Prentiss.

"This cabin was rented, paid in cash. Owner said it was weird that someone rented it out of hunting season and wanted it as long as they did. So he remembered him. He's coming down to the station to meet with a sketch artist. Maybe we can get a physical description of our unsub."

Hotch listened half-heartedly. They seemed to be closer—a lot closer, but he couldn't stop thinking about Robin. Was she dead? If not then she was wounded. Her shirt was torn and bloody. There was a lot of blood at the cabin, but it wasn't in one area. He knew that only the lab would be able to tell if the blood _was_ Robin's.

"Hey!" A voice brought his attention back to the cabin. "Dog is picking up a blood trail…leading into the woods!" The man let the dog lead him through the thick bushes as a few more officers rushed to catch up.

* * *

In the darkness of Brendon's trunk, Robin blinked back tears as the car stopped and then lurched forward—at a stop sign she assumed.

Brendon had done it. He'd actually shot her.

She cursed herself for trying to run again. Now she couldn't. He shot her before she even reached the car—had practically just stepped foot in the gravel when she'd felt it.

Her warm, sticky blood had already soaked thru her pants and she could feel her bare ankle and foot sticking to the papers in the trunk when she moved. Her ankles were duct taped together, her arms were duct taped behind her back, and her mouth was duct taped too.

She tensed as the car swerved and her feet hit the interior of the trunk.

Robin cried out in pain. The pain in her leg kept bringing up the lump in her throat. She knew that she'd been hit beneath her knee, but she didn't know how bad—hadn't had a chance to even look.

She let her tears fall, dampening her cheeks and sliding over the slick duct tape covering her mouth. She'd thought that Brendon would be her escape—thought that she could trick him, especially after he'd stood up to James. But she was wrong. Now they were driving—to only God knew where, as Brendon attempted to get away from James's body and the cabin.


End file.
